OUR LITTLE SECRET
University professors Gojo & Geto X Fem Reader
ᯓ★
Synopsis : in which reader is a 22 years old uni student that has a big fat crush on her professors, Gojo and Geto. After all, a lot of people on campus fawn over them. Why wouldn’t you too ? As a class president, you end up passing more and more time with them, the line in between professionalism and something more is slowly blurred. Are they flirting ? Or just being nice ?
Words count : 13.6 k
Warnings : age difference, the fic is problematic, smut, threesome, foreplay, reader is afab, reader drinks alcohol and smokes cigarettes, Satoru and Suguru are kinda mean, squirting, chocking, half public sex.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : Yeah, I don’t know why I wrote that… anyways, hope you guys still like it. It’s my first time writing about Geto too. English is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes.
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One year and a half. One more fucking year and a half before you graduate college and your major. You were excited, maybe more than you should be. Well, the reason was not the one your family and friends expected. That was your little secret, one in between you and two other individuals. Cut to the chase, the big part of the reason was simple : once you would be free of the title of “student”, nothing else could hold you back in wooing your two teachers from whom you had the biggest fat crush ever.
How couldn’t you ? Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru were the hottest teachers of your damn campus. Since day one, when you arrived here, some years ago, you couldn’t help but be like any other of their fangirls and fanboys : thirsting over them. Nothing more, nothing else. You expected nothing in return, they were your professors. Even though they weren’t really professors with no teacher diploma, -but specialists in their major coming to teach other people-, they were doing an amazing job at it. You could maybe fantasize a bit more than your other fellow classmates, when you got assigned as class president of your course with Gojo. You ended up talking more with him, relaying infos he would give you to the rest of the class, and even having small reunions with him to discuss topics about the course or other important things, like grades, exams, or problems in between students.
Gojo always had this carefree smirk plastered on his face, having this kind of atmosphere around him that made you feel like you weren’t talking to your professor, but to a friend or a classmate. After all, you were 22, and he was 28. Some people in your class were older than you, a few of them having the same age as your young professor. So the small age gap didn’t help in making you even more confused by the way he was addressing to you.
Geto, on the other hand, was less carefree than his best friend, having more seriousness as a teacher. Nonetheless, he had this sort of nonchalant aura, and you knew damn well, that aside from his calm and composed face, the black haired professor was slyer than you thought. Aside from your classes with him, you ended up being class president too in his course with another friend of yours. You had the golden duo in your hands, and that made some of your classmates jealous to see you spending more time than them with the hottest teacher on campus. Nothing serious, though. After all, you were just an invested student in their eyes, and they were you professors. Right ?
Well, here goes the reason why you couldn’t wait to graduate to woo them : in the past, you never predicted the growing interest they would have, and how the fine line in between professor and student got blurry through time.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
You were walking in the big left wing corridor of the campus, holding some files in your hands that you had to bring to professor Geto. It was needed for your next class with him, that would start in 15 minutes more exactly. You walk confidently, saying hi to fellow friends in another major passing by. At the same time, you saw a crowd of people gathered in front of the door of a class. Curious, you raise an eyebrow and speed up, wondering what was happening.
Ah. Your curiosity stops immediately when you realize that it simply was Professor Gojo surrounded by students, trying to have a conversation with him. It’s not like it was difficult, the white haired man was very talkative, and it was well known that it annoyed another one of your professors named Nanami. Gojo had his usual cocky smile, black sunglasses sliding down his nose as he hums before answering the question of a student. Him being so tall, it was damn easy to spot him in this sea of people. You walk faster, but then his piercing blue eyes raise from behind his glasses, and meet yours no matter how many people are around. Not knowing what to do, nor wanting to disturb him, you just smile politely and look back to the files in your hands, continuing to walk.
“Y/n ! My favorite class president, I need your help,” a voice exclaims behind you, and before you can react, a strong arm slides around your shoulders bringing you closer to your teacher. You raise your head, not expecting for Professor Gojo to pop at your side when two seconds ago he was surrendered by people. How did he even manage to do that ?
“Professor ? I was about to bring these files to Professor Geto, so…,” you start to say, slightly flustered by the way he was holding your shoulders. Well, it was known by most students that Gojo didn’t really know anything about personal space, being a bit too friendly instead of keeping his professionalism. But that’s what made him so carefree, and appreciated by most students. Even if you were used to his behavior, starting your third year here and being at his classes, you couldn’t help but feel heat in your stomach each time he innocently touched you. No matter how quick and friendly it was.
“Geto ? Perfect, it was on my way, anyways,” he gives you this big smile, tilting his head on the side as he continues to walk by your side. You look behind you, and realize that most of the crowd disappeared, and some students were watching you with envy. You look back at him.
“Oh, alright,” you nod saying that, smelling the cologne of your professor filling your nose. God, he smelled sweet. You quickly look away, trying to hide your crush on him. It was near impossible sometimes, even more when he was acting like this with you. Did he notice anything ?
“You almost nailed the last math exam, I finished reading it,” he suddenly says as he munches on his minty chewing-gum, straightening back up and sliding his hands in his pockets instead.
“Almost ?” you ask, frowning your eyebrows. He gives you a glance, and nods, nudging you.
“Hmm, nothing bad. You just didn’t quite understand the last lesson with the new formulas. Maybe I should give you some quick tutoring next time you help me with classifying the course books, yeah ?” Gojo proposes, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you.
You think about it, and look in front of you to hide your reaction. You already had some teacher in the past helping you out when messing up something in class, taking extra time to explain it to you again. It wouldn’t be anything different with Professor Gojo, right ? You were just delusional to think the contrary.
“That would be nice, thank you. What was the thing you needed my help for, anyways ?” you ask as you approach the classroom of Geto’s course. Finally. Gojo stops in front of it, facing you and smiling.
“Nah, I lied. Just wanted to have an excuse to stop answering all the questions the first years were asking me. It got too personal, even though I like to talk about myself,” he blows his chewing-gum bubble while answering, tilting his head on the side, gazing at you.
“Oh- yeah, I get it,” you chuckle, a bit nervously. It was hard to stay focused because of the way his eyes were on you. It was intimidating.
“Thanks, y/n. See ya’ next class.” He waves, winking at you, and walks away. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down and cursing yourself for acting like a teenager that had a silly crush on their teacher.
You open the door with one hand, closing it behind you without looking inside. You have goosebumps at the coldness of the class, before turning around and realizing that the window was open. Professor Geto was nonchalantly smoking, a cigarette slipped in between his lips before his purple eyes met yours. You catch your breath in your throat.
“Oh, y/n, that’s you. You got the documents ? Thanks,” he approaches you and grabs the files. He eyes you down, his black hair half tied in a bun. Smoking wasn’t allowed inside the buildings, so it was quite shocking to see your teacher that is usually serious about the rules of the campus breaking them like that.
“You’re welcome,” you answer, unsure on how to react.
“That’s our little secret, don’t tell anyone that I’m smoking, it’s prohibited. I trust you, okay ?” he asks with a small lazy smile, the intensity of his gaze on you making you shyer than you thought. He steps back and goes to the window to finish his cigarette.
“Yeah, but I expect that if I break a rule and you catch me, you would keep it a secret too,” you coyly reply. You didn’t know where this cockiness came from, maybe because spending too much time with Gojo after his classes helping him out, resulted in you mimicking his behavior.
Geto stops in his track, and before answering he blows out his smoke through his nose, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m your teacher, I’m not supposed to let you freely break rules, you know ?” he retorts, staring right back at you as you still stand a bit awkwardly at the door.
“I know, but…”
“Alright, if I catch you smoking like I do, I wouldn’t scold you. But I still don’t want to see my supposed innocent student getting herself into that,” he continues, interrupting you as he inhales some smoke before finishing his cigarette and throwing it in the depth of the small trash next to his desk.
You swallow your saliva, shaking your hand at his words. You weren’t innocent, but the way he said it made it sound like he meant clearly something else.
“I already smoked before,” you retort. He smirks slightly before letting the window open to take off the lingering smell of cigarette and walk back to his desk.
“That’s too bad, don’t do it again, it’s not good for your health,” he answers as he takes the files and organizes them on his table, briefly looking at you and then back at the papers.
“Yet, professor, you do it too,” you state, sitting at a chair in front of one of the empty desks. After all, class would soon start. He smirks at your boldness, looking at you.
“Hmm, but it’s different. As your professor, I still have some sense of responsibility with my students. I wouldn’t want to let you smoke on my watch,” he answers, taping the wood of the table with his fingers. You look at it, and then back at his purple eyes.
“I wouldn’t, probably. But then, that’s a deal. I won’t tell that you were smoking inside the classroom,” you finish, biting the inside of your mouth as he looks at you doing so.
“Good, thanks y/n. I can always count on you.” His smiles stretch, and you couldn’t help but fluster a bit at how pretty and charming he looked. Not long after, class started.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
This afternoon you were helping out your teacher grabbing some needed books in the library for his next class. Gojo was way taller than you, allowing him to reach the highest shelves. In the quietness of the library, barely any students present, you look around searching for one specific book in the left aisle. As you go on your tiptoes to grab it, you feel the presence of someone behind you, and a palm landing on your shoulder.
“Let me do it for ya,” whispers your teacher, winking at you behind his glasses and lifting his arm to grab what you were looking for. As he does so, his muscles move, making his chest brush against your back. You suck up a breath, and raise your head to look at his cheeky grin.
“Here you go,” he says, giving it to you and you take it in your hand.
“Thanks,” you breathe out, feeling heat all over your face and your heart hammering in your rib cage. When meeting his eyes, you can’t help but feel intimidated, even more by this proximity.
“Only three more to go, and we are all done, y/n,” He winks at you, shaking the paper with the list on it in front of your face. The way he rolls down your name on his tongue and his hand still on your shoulder makes you look away from his gaze.
“That will be quick,” you answer and he hums, and then softly pushes you towards the next aisle and bookshelves, his hand still on you.
“All thanks to you. You do your job well,” he compliments you as you try to search for the next needed book, eyes scanning around.
“That’s normal, I’m not the class president for nothing,” you confirm, smiling slightly at his praise. He backs down and goes back to searching for the next books.
“Yeah, but in the past, when I was a student too, I was the worst class president they could have. Yet, my classmates voted for me. I’m just comparing myself to you,” he explains, a small smile on his face as he remembers his past as a college student. It wasn’t too long ago, Gojo was barely 28 after all.
You look at him surprised, trying to imagine your teacher as a student, and you couldn’t help but wonder that if he was the same age as you and a college student, would you be his friend ? Or maybe more… You shake your head, that was stupid to think so.
“No way, really ?”
“Yeah, even if I had good grades, it annoyed me to death to do all these boring tasks, so it impresses me to see a student like you being so serious about it and doing it perfectly. I gotta’ admire you for that, if I’m being honest, y/n,” he admits, looking at you up and down in quite a long way, his gaze lingering. You feel giddy at the compliment.
“Now that you say it, professor, it’s hard to imagine the contrary,” you chuckle slightly.
“I was a troublemaker with Suguru, uh- I mean professor Geto,” he adds as he grabs one of the books you needed, and you pause in your search to look at him, even more surprised.
“Troublemakers ? I didn’t expect professor Geto to be a troublemaker, he seems so…”
“Calm ? Yeah, don’t get fooled by that. And yes, we do almost everything together, get in trouble together, and share quite anything together. You see ?” he cuts you off, completing your sentence. But the way he said the word share made you shiver slightly, feeling his eyes on you.
“That’s funny to know, to be honest,” you whisper and smile to yourself, finally finding the last book you needed to check on the list.
Lost in thoughts, you try to imagine Gojo and Geto causing trouble. Not gonna lie, it made them look hotter in your head, forcing yourself to not bite your lip mindlessly. You tried to visualize Geto as a troublemaker, and remember how he was smoking inside the classroom last time. It wasn’t too hard to imagine, after that. Now you knew that you had more material to fantasize about your attractive teachers… But as you continue to think, you don’t realize that one of the high books stumbles and falls right towards your head. Before it could hit you, Gojo grabs it swiftly, and wraps his arm around your waist to make you step back. Your body hits his chest, and you look at him eyes wide open.
“Be careful, y/n. Wouldn’t want ya to get hurt on my watch,” he chuckles, his chest rumbling against you. You could feel the warmth of his body through your clothes, and that made you even more nervous in his presence. His breath slightly hits your nape, making you shiver.
“I’m sorry, thank you, ahah,” you awkwardly answer, not knowing how to react. One more second passes, before he steps back and lets you breathe again.
“We got all the books, how about I give you the tutoring like I proposed last day ?” he asks, winking at you, holding now more than a half of the manuals you went to search in the library.
“If that doesn’t bother you, yes,” you try to gain back your composure, stopping your thoughts from imagining more things.
“Why would it ? I still have time to kill. Anyways, perfect, let’s go !” he muses as he puts his free hand on your back to push you towards the exit.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
It’s been 15 minutes since you were sitting in the empty classroom of Gojo, receiving his tutoring and corrections about your last exam. It was helping you greatly, him being nonetheless a very good teacher no matter how unserious and silly he could act in general. His advices were just right, and he could easily pinpoint your weaknesses in a topic to help you through it and improve. When it was about working hard in his class, he wasn’t lenient. Yet, the way he was helping you out, made you feel like it was favoritism. Was it right for the other students, wasn’t it slightly unfair ?
You don’t have time to ponder more when the door opens, and closes right after the person enters. You raise your head, only to see professor Geto entering the class with a cup of coffee in his hand, and some soda in his other. He looks surprised to see you here, walking towards the both of you.
“Am I interrupting something ?” he asks as he gives the soda can to your white haired teacher that grabs it smiling, stretching his body, making his shirt ride up slightly and showing some of his skin.
“Nah, was just tutoring miss y/n right here,” he answers, giving you a glance, sipping on his soda. Meanwhile, Geto does too on his coffee, and walks behind you to look at the math formula you were writing down on paper.
“Hmm, too bad. If I knew, I would have brought you something too, y/n,” answers the black haired one, his purple eyes meeting yours as he gives you this lazy smile that always made you have butterflies in your stomach.
“Ah, no, it’s alright professor ! No need to, thank you though,” you shake your head, chuckling a bit shy by his act of kindness. Fuck, why were you loosing all your personality whenever you were in their presence ? Was it your nervosity ? Probably, and that pissed you off.
“Come on y/n, you’ve been working hard. You need some reward,” insists Gojo, tapping his pencil against your exercises written on your notebook, referring to it. His blue eyes bore into you, and his smirk widens as he slides his glasses on top of his head.
“I don’t want you to spend money on me, that would feel wrong,” you retort, and Geto chuckles before taking a chair and dragging it next to the table, sitting on it lazily, legs parted.
“It’s alright. You can take a sip of my coffee if you prefer,” proposes your professor, tilting his head to the side to emphasize his question, showing with his chin the drink in his hand. You look at it, not knowing what to answer.
“Or my soda,” coos Gojo, crossing his arms on his chest and looking at you choosing.
Gojo was already helping you out with your difficulties from the last lesson, so you preferred to hold a favor to Geto by sipping on his drink. You didn’t even know why you accepted, taking the coffee in your hands. What kind of teacher proposes that to their students ? You didn’t know, and you were too nervous to actually think straight.
“Thanks,” you mutter before bringing the cup to your lips under the burning gaze of Geto, and gulp down some coffee. You thought you saw him looking at your lips doing so, did you imagine it ? You didn’t even like coffee that much, but you still did it. It was bitter, and you did a small grimace. It makes the black haired one smirks more by watching you suffer slightly. Gojo chuckles.
“You should have drunk my soda,” he hums, and you couldn’t agree more, but kept it for yourself.
“It’s alright, it didn’t taste that… bad,” you try to answer, even though the taste was still lingering on your tongue.
“It’s not for everyone, yeah,” he adds, taking back the drink, his fingers slightly touching yours.
“You don’t mind taking a small break, y/n ?” asks Gojo as he closes back the manual, suddenly putting his legs on the table without a care in the world, crossing his arms behind his head and looking at you from the corner of his eyes.
“I don’t, I started to be a bit tired anyways,” you answer, looking at the long legs of your teacher in his carefree attitude.
“Hey, don’t be a douchebag and act like that in front of our student,” complains Geto, glaring slightly at your other professor. Gojo rolls his eyes, looking back at you by turning his head towards you.
“She doesn’t mind, it’s just us right now. Right, y/n ?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and his blue eyes holding your gaze. You swallow your saliva, and smile a bit nervously.
“No, it’s refreshing.” That’s what you answered. After all, it was true. Seeing your teacher act like that made him look more… human, rather than just your professor.
“Then if you don’t, I'll smoke a bit,” answers Geto as he glances at you before standing up, and walks towards the window to open it.
“Make sure no other student can come in then, Suguru,” answers Gojo casually by calling him by his first name, taking out his phone and scrolling on it. After all, they were friends. Yet, it felt strangely intimate to see them drop the act in front of you and be suddenly so casual. At the same time Suguru closes the door, locking it in a soft click. He grabs a cigarette from his pocket, and a lighter, before putting it in between his lips, walking back to the window.
“I count on you again, y/n,” he says as the flame shines on his face, lightening the cigarette. Then, you see smoke creating around his mouth and the end of the cigarette, before being blown away in the wind. You nod, answering a “no problem”.
“No way ! Don’t tell me you make her keep the secret, Sugu’. You’re sneaky,” laughs Gojo, lifting his head to look at his best friend who rolls his eyes.
“She knows how to keep secrets, hmm ?” answers Geto, holding your gaze as he blows away the smoke.
“Uh, yeah, yeah. I do. I mean, it’s just smoking... I don’t care,” you answer, shaking your head.
“Oh yeah ? That’s good to know, then,” muses Gojo, putting down his phone as he balances himself on the chair, you were scared that he would fall. He sips on his soda, licking his lips.
“I’m not a snitch,” you add, looking back at your notebook and then closing it.
“I’m curious about something, y/n. It’s not work related. Can I ask ?” suddenly asks Gojo, sitting straight back on the chair and turning to face you, crossing his leg over the left one.
“Of course,” you nod and look back at him.
“Do you have a boyfriend ?” You open your eyes wider, and if you had water in your mouth you would have spilled it. You gulp, letting out a shaky breath, not expecting this question at all.
“Satoru, you’re making her shy,” chuckles Suguru from behind, tapping some of the ashes of the cigarette over the window before inhaling the smoke again
“Is it making you shy ?” he questions again, unable to hide his cheeky smile to form on his pink lips. Was he flirting with you ? No, impossible. Why would the hottest teacher on campus be interested in you ? You persisted in the thought that you were delusional, and tapped the table with your nails to try to stay grounded.
“No, it doesn’t. Why ? Does it have to do with something about classes ? Or work related ?” you interrogate, unsure of the reason behind this question. At the same time, you felt the gaze of Gojo scanning you, humming to himself before his eyes are on your face again and he smiles at you innocently.
“No reason. Just wondering.” He shrugs, glancing at Suguru behind him who was still smoking, looking at the scene unfold before him with interest.
“I don’t have a boyfriend, nor girlfriend,” you end up answering.
“Ah, is that so ?” He smirks.
You nod, flustered, and not knowing what to answer. Was it alright if a teacher asked you such a thing ? Probably not. But fuck, coming from the two men that you had the biggest crush on since your first year in this university, it made you not give a single care.
“Satoru, look at her, you are making our poor student uncomfortable,” continues the voice of Suguru as he walks towards you once he finished his cigarette. It sounded slightly nagging, and like a mockery to yourself. He stands right behind your chair now.
“What ? ‘M just asking. Can’t I like some gossip ?” he justifies himself.
“Then if I answered, it’s only right if I know both of your answers too,” you mutter louder than you wanted. Yeah, that was the biggest opportunity you could have right now to know more about the hottest teacher on campus. You wanted to know so bad, for years now. There were rumors for a long time, that either they were single, or secretly dating, or having hundreds of hookups. None of it could be confirmed, since Geto and Gojo always made sure to hide their personal life well. So, yes, it was your chance right now.
“Awww, she got us, Suguru,” snickers the white haired one.
“Are you curious, y/n ?” continues Geto. They both stare intently at you.
“I’m not going to lie, yes,” you admit, nodding. You could feel some tension in the air. Maybe you were crossing a line by asking that, but Gojo was the first one to, so it would only be fair. Right ?
“I like your honesty,” purrs Suguru, putting his hand on the back of your chair, towering over you. You could smell his cologne mixed with the scent of cigarettes.
“As a reward for telling us, maybe we should answer too. Don’t you think, Sugu’ ?” They stare at each other, and you could swear it felt like they were communicating telepathically right now, exchanging unspoken words.
“Why not,” ends up answering Geto, shrugging. You anticipate their answer. What if they were dating someone ? It’s not like you had a chance, whatever, but you still hoped the contrary.
“Nah, we aren’t dating anyone, we just like having…” starts to say Satoru.
“Fun,” finishes Suguru.
Oh. The way they said “fun” made a pool of heat create in your lower abdomen. So they were single, and probably hooking up with people ? You bite the inside of your cheek, imagining them having their so-called fun. It was hard to not have any lewd thoughts about your professors now.
“I see…” you answer, nodding. What else could you say aside from that, seriously ?
“You’re not embarrassed, right ?” questions Suguru.
“Uh- no, no,” you half lie.
“We trust you to keep it a secret, y/n, yeah ? We wouldn’t want students to go around starting more rumors,” adds Satoru, his blue eyes fixated on your facial reaction.
“Of course,” you immediately answer, nodding firmly. Well, you still would say it to your best friend that was in another university, but that didn’t count, you thought.
“We already had a bunch of students asking to have sex with us because of rumors 3 years ago. That was troublesome to handle. We wouldn’t want it to happen again, you understand, right ?” continues Suguru, looking at you from above, giving you his unreadable smile. You gulp.
“Y-yeah, I get it. No worries,” you confirm slightly tense.
“I told you that she could keep secrets, Satoru,” he says looking at his best friend with a smirk.
“We’ll see,” he grins too, his eyes not leaving you.
“Alright, I’ll let you go back to your tutoring. See you tomorrow, and see you too next class, y/n,” Geto ends up announcing, putting his hand on your shoulder to emphasize his goodbye, making you shudder slightly at the contact before he steps back.
“See ya !” Waves cheerfully Satoru, sipping on his soda as your black haired professor walks away and unlocks the door before opening it, and gives one last glance as he steps out.
Shortly after, you went back to your lesson, still disturbed by what happened. You couldn’t stop thinking about how they acted and what they said.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
You just finished class, and these past days you’ve been stressed as ever. In between trying to keep up with classes, and in between the way you were on your toes everytime professor Gojo or Geto spent “innocent” time with you, them addressing you more like a friend rather than a student, you were damn tired. After all, you couldn’t help but wonder if these interactions with them through the weeks were just you being delusional, or if something was really going on.
You sigh, closing your jacket and stepping outside of the building. With all this stress burning you up, you just wanted to smoke, or maybe you secretly hoped to cross by professor Geto. Even if it was your little secret in between you and him that he was smoking inside his classroom, you nonetheless saw him at the smoking area during the quiet hours of the day when nobody else was around.
In this cold weather, you put your hands in the pockets of your coat to warm your poor frozen fingers, and walk towards the area. Great, he wasn’t there. You sigh, a bit disappointed, but still take out the cigarette from the pack and slide it in between your lips. You then search your lighter, but quickly frown when you realize that you didn’t find it, nor in your pockets, nor in your bag. You groan, but then suddenly a flame appears in front of your eyes and lights your cigarette. You open your eyes wider, only to meet the purple ones of Geto. Surprised, you fluster, and could feel your face heating up.
“Professor ? Thank you,” you murmur, inhaling the smoke and blowing it away, looking at his nonchalant gaze on you.
“Smoking ? That’s bad, y/n, but I promised to not scold you,” he says as he looks at the way the cigarette consumes itself, and how the smoke lingers in the air. He keeps his hands in his pockets, stepping back to let you some personal space, unlike Gojo.
“That’s right, and you are here too to smoke, right ?” you answer logically, that was the smoking area after all, so nothing surprising for him to be here.
“Hmmm. ‘Saw you smoking, I thought why not join you. It’s the first time I see you doing that,” he explains, leaning against the wall behind him, turning his head towards you. You spin around to face Geto, and he already has a cigarette in between his lips too.
You nod, slightly nervous to be left alone with him with nothing else to do. Usually you can occupy yourself with helping him with some documents, or things related to class. But not right now, and it was the worst moment to have your head empty of any discussion ideas. Fuck, it pisses you off.
“No need to be so uptight, you’re not in class right now,” he chuckles softly, trying to light his cigarette, but because of the wind, it’s near impossible.
“I’m just not used to it,” you whisper as you look at the flame struggling to work. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, and then you approach him.
“Wait, let me help, I’ll just-” you whisper, and then press the end of your cigarette against the end of his, helping him to lighten it as he inhales. Some sparks make it work, and it’s only then that you realize how close you are to his face, and his eyes are on you all the time. His dark lashes are longer than you thought, and his pupils expand in the purple of his irises. You directly step back, embarrassed.
“Thanks, y/n,” he grins, blowing away the smoke out of his mouth. You simply nod and continue to inhale to smoke against the wall next to him, your arm brushing his. You don’t know what have gotten into you when doing that, but damn, that was sexy as fuck. Why did he have to be your university teacher ? !
“Satoru is not too annoying with you, right ? Sometimes he acts too friendly, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable just because he can’t mind his own business,” he starts to say, tilting his head to the side to look at you, and you see how his adam apple moves as he talks.
“Satoru ? Oh, yeah, professor Gojo. No, it’s alright, I’m getting used to it,” you smile slightly. It’s true that since he asked you if you had a boyfriend out of the blue some weeks ago, the more time you both passed together aside from classes, the more he asked you things, and the line in between student and teacher became blurry by the way he was acting with you.
“What did he ask you last time ?”
“If I had a crush on someone on campus, I think he wanted to act like a matchmaker,” you chuckle a bit, remembering the question, not thinking much of it. Suguru hums, silently inhaling on the cigarette, looking at the building some meters away.
“What did you answer, then ?” he asks, gazing at you with an unreadable face. Surprised by his curiosity, you at first don’t answer.
“Uh, I said no… I mean, I’m 22, it’s not like having silly crushes when you are a teenager,” you try to justify yourself, nervous to answer when the two people you had a crush on were the both of them. That was your secret. And they couldn’t know.
“Hmm, is that so ? And why is that ? Don’t you find any of the students here attractive ?” he looks suspicious, but the way the corner of his lips move, it shows he is kinda mocking you, secretly mocking you. Did he know your real answer ? No, he can’t… More like, you hope so.
“Not the students, no,” you shake your head and concentrate on finishing your cig, trying to sound natural, the best you could. But his burning gaze made you feel like being in the spotlight, and that he could know if you were lying or not.
“Teachers, then ?” he suddenly questions, smashing the end of his cigarette on the public ashtray, stepping back in front of you and digging his hands in his pockets.
“Uh, ahah. Even if I did, that wouldn’t be very appropriate, right ?” you scoff, trying to hide how nervous you were at his question, fingers slightly shaking, because of the cold, or the stress.
You were sure that you heard a “what a shame” coming out of his mouth, but, were you really sure ? He smiles, and spins around, waving lazily at you.
“See you next class, y/n, work well on your homework,” he simply announces, walking away and leaving you alone in the smoking area with your unfinished cigarette. You look down at it, and half of it was the ashes ready to fall on the ground. You forgot to smoke it during a good part of the conversation… Damn, he really knew how to make you falter with just some words.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Friday night, after a long week of work, you decided to go out with your friends before your club trip. Indeed, next week, you will be busy organizing with your university club the 2 nights trip in the mountains, thanks to the savings the club made this past months. And surprise : the two teachers that will accompany you there, would be Gojo and Geto. Obviously. It’s like the universe was toying with you, and just thinking about it made you nervous and excited at the same time.
After going out, it started to be late and your friends were tired, saying goodbye to you. You sigh, for you it was too early to go back home, so you decided to at least go drink something by yourself before heading back to your place. You spot your favorite bar, one you were acquainted with, and open the door, stepping inside and leaving the coldness of the street. As you do so, you spot for an empty sit at the desk, and sit on it. You look at the list, wondering what you will drink tonight, when the door of the bar opens again. You turn your head, and gasp when your eyes meet Gojo and Geto, entering it. Your eyes met, and you felt like you were hallucinating. Surprise passes on their face, and then there is a big smile on the face of the white haired one.
“No way ! Y/n, what’s up ? What are you doing here all alone ?” he exclaims, walking towards you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder cheerfully, not believing his eyes.
“Satoru, she is just like us, here to take a drink. It’s a common bar here,” answers Geto, nudging his friend.
“Good evening y/n,” Geto grins at you, standing next to you and then taking off the arm of Satoru around your shoulder, meanwhile he rolls his eyes.
“Oh my- I didn’t expect to see the both of you here, I often come and I never saw you in this bar,” you comment, turning around to face them better in the dim light of the bar. They were in more casual clothes. The hair of Geto is kept down, framing his face and falling on his shoulders. Gojo doesn’t even wear his sunglasses like he used to, letting his blue eyes to your seeing. Looking at them dressing like that, you just wanted to drool at how hot they looked. That was unfair. So unfair.
“I saw on their website that they had very good non alcohol cocktails, I wanted to try it,” explains Gojo as he grabs the card menu, and reads it while licking his lips.
“Are you here with friends ?” asks Suguru, looking at you instead.
“No, they left earlier,” you shake your head answering them.
“You care if we join you, then ?” Gojo smiles, his blue eyes on your face now, staring at your expression.
“Not at all,” you answered quite quickly, and you sounded almost eager. Suguru chuckles, and they both sit next to you on each of your sides. You look left and right, feeling small in between them. You weren’t going to lie, having a drink with them was like a dream coming true.
“Did you order already, y/n ?” questions Suguru, looking at the menu, and humming softly as he thinks about what to take.
“Not yet.”
“Perfect ! Then take anything you want, it’s on us,” exclaims Gojo, winking at you to emphasize what he just proposed. You open slightly your mouth, surprised and touched
“Oh, it’s alright professor, I can-”
“Nuh-uh. We’ll pay, take it as a thank you for all your hard work as a class president,” muses Gojo, leaning his chin on his hand and narrowing his eyes while staring at you. You gulp, and smile a bit dumbly in return.
“Alright, thank you then professor Go-”
“Please, we are in between us, call us by our names,” he stops you mid-sentence, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, we are outside of classes right now. Don’t bother with the formalities, y/n,” adds Geto, and you turn your head to look at him on your right.
“Right… then thank you, Satoru. And thank you, Suguru,” you end up saying, their names feeling weird and new on your tongue. You were flustered to even pronounce these syllables. Their smiles grow wider at your words, and suddenly their presence felt overwhelming, having them so close, able to smell their sweet cologne filling your nose, and the way they looked at you.
“Good,” whispers Satoru.
You all order your drinks, and you sip on the usual cocktail you take when being there. Minutes pass, and the alcohol in your blood makes it easier to freely talk to Satoru and Suguru, breaking the barrier between professor and student. The conversation goes on, and they both know exactly how to make you talk. It just sounded so easy, very easy.
“You don’t take any alcohol, Satoru ?” you ask, finishing your cocktail.
“Nah, I don’t like the taste of it. And I prefer to have a clear head,” he explains.
“Just admit that you are a lightweight, yeah ?” teases Suguru, gulping down half of the end of his beer and putting it down on the counter, smirking.
“I never thought you would be a lightweight !” you laugh, imagining the white haired one unable to keep his mind straight with just one shot of vodka, for example. He pouts, and rolls his eyes.
“Hey, don’t go on and expose my secret, Suguru ! Poor y/n right here, she shouldn’t know that her favorite teacher is like that,” he dramatically retorts, sliding his arm around your shoulder and bringing you even closer, shaking his head.
“What, afraid she’ll start a rumor ?”
“I wouldn’t,” you quickly answer.
“That’s true, Suguru. She did an amazing job at keeping many secrets, like the one that we are single and just like having fun. Right, y/n ?” He grins, his eyes lowering down to look at your face that gets warmer by the blood rushing in it.
“Yeah… that’s no one of my business, after all,” you whisper. Right, you wished that was some of your business. You thought that you could keep dreaming.
“Hmm, we just are consenting adults living our life without causing any harm. Like anybody else, I’m sure even y/n right here has her part of secrets,” adds Suguru, crossing his arms over his chest, his finger lightly tapping against his bicep as his purple eyes scan you.
Oh, that was a rough topic. Both because you felt a bit uncomfortable talking about it with them, second because you were embarrassed : it’s been years since you had “fun”, like they called it. And that was quite frustrating.
“Hey, now it’s you making her uncomfortable, Suguru. Look at her,” he feigns concern saying that, but it felt more like he was having fun. It kinda pissed you off, as if they were treating you like some innocent dumb doll. You weren’t, it felt like mockery coming from their mouths, even though you had no single proof that it indeed was.
“Aw, my bad, y/n. No need to answer,” Suguru answers, raising his eyebrows while taking another sip of his beer.
“No, it’s alright. It’s been a long time since I dated anyone, anyways,” you end up admitting.
“No way, a pretty woman like you ?” Replies Satoru, arm still around your shoulder and eying you up and down.
“What a shame,” continues Suguru.
Are they flirting with you ? Unbelievable, they were just being nice, nothing more, nothing else. Why would they in the first place, anyways ?
“Well, thank you. But no, nobody interested me, and with uni’ it’s hard to find time,” you explain.
“I mean, we are busy too, and Suguru still finds the time to go have fun, for example,” chuckles Gojo, licking his lips after taking a gulp of his cocktail.
“Satoru, would you want me to talk about your fun too, uh ?” retorts the black haired one, giving a small glare to his friend as a silent warning.
“Hey, that would be inappropriate for y/n to know that.” He shakes his head and looks at you from the corner of his eyes, his smile bigger now.
“And it’s you saying that ? Seriously ?”
“Relax, we’re just having a chat. Nothing scandalous happening here. Awww, anyways. Back to the topic : you,” Satoru suddenly talks back to you, his eyes right on yours now.
“Uh, no no. Nothing of that. No… fun either,” you answer as you put down your cocktail.
“Hmmm, I see. What a bummer,” he hums.
“Well, this type of life is not for everyone,” responds Suguru, leaning his head on the back and looking at the ceiling before gazing back at you.
“Maybe.” You didn’t know what to answer else, because you wanted to have this fun with them ! But, that only was in your dreams, the craziest and juiciest ones.
After this, an hour passed where you continued to drink in their company. They, as they said, paid for your consummations. As you walk out of the bar, the cold hitting you like a truck, you look around while they follow you after you.
“Need someone to accompany you home, y/n ?” asks Suguru, his hands in his pockets.
“No need to bother, I’m… fine,” you answer, smiling at him.
“Yeah, right. And let you walk alone being drunk ? No way,” retorts Satoru, his hand on your back as he steps up.
“He’s right, y/n. Unless you prefer that we call you an uber, hmm ?” adds Suguru, standing in front of you as he raises his left eyebrow.
“What ? No, you both already paid for my cocktails, that would be unfair-”
“Then at least one of us will walk you home, it isn't safe at all. Deal,” stats the white haired one, winking at you.
You couldn’t argue more, and you were too tired to, anyways. You ended up getting walked back home by both of your teachers, and that was quite a strange situation. You were sure that if the people of the campus heard about it, they would go crazy. You bite your lower lip, giggling in your head at the idea. Once you are in front of the door of your apartment building, safe and sound, they wave you goodbye.
“See you on monday, y/n,” Satoru purrs, sliding his arm around the shoulder of Suguru as they turn around, giving you his signature smile.
“Take care,” finishes Suguru softly, before walking off.
You look at them doing so, your heart hammering in your chest, heat burning up your cheeks. Fuck, it was getting harder and harder to keep your calm around them, now.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
After a whole week of preparation, taking the train, you finally arrived at the camp that was supposed to host your club, you, and your teachers. The activities were mostly to have fun and have a break from work, like a reward for passing mid exams of the year. You got in your room with other female students, after checking them with Gojo and Geto, being sure everything was alright.
You all started by doing some hiking, nothing too hard, obviously. You all had packed lunch, taking the opportunity to look at the amazing landscape of the mountains. You stayed behind, to make sure nobody would get lost, in the company of Gojo and Geto. You started to get tired, letting the two of them keep up their conversation by themselves. They weren’t exhausted at all, unlike everyone else. How could that be humanly possible ? You were out of breath, and they kept glancing at you at the corner of their eyes.
“Maybe we should take a break, y/n, you look like you are about to faint here,” jokes Satoru, patting softly your back as a way to cheer you up.
“No, we will soon arrive at the lunch spot. I can hold on for 10 more minutes,” you shake your head, taking a deep breath and grabbing a trunk to help you climb the small rocks on the side. But then two hands slide under your arms, and lift you up easily until the top of the rocks, as if you weighed nothing.
“Here you go, you should ask for help if needed,” winks at you Suguru, being the one that helped you out. You look away, flustered to be so close to him, before he steps on the side to let you walk by yourself. The palm of Gojo is now on the small of your back to make sure you don’t fall.
“Thank you,” you inhale while saying that.
“You’re kinda weak, y/n. But don’t worry, we’re here to catch you before falling.” Satoru grins saying that, looking at your figure struggling to keep the pace.
“Yeah, right-” you start sarcastically, rolling your eyes, but at the same time your foot slips on the ground and you gasp as you lose balance. You fall backwards, yet, your back hits two strong chests behind you, and long arms wrap around your waist securely. You quickly realize that your two professors caught you on time.
“Told you,” murmurs Satoru cockily, his grin becoming a cheeky smirk.
“Be careful,” continues Suguru, and they push you back up on your feet. You thank them, embarrassed, and now stay closer in case something happens.
Some minutes later you all arrive at the secluded place for lunch. It was beautiful, a big panoramic view by being on the mountain felt like you were touching the sky and that the villages around were as small as ants. You help other classmates while Gojo and Geto are busy distributing the food in case people forgot to pack lunch. Students fawn over them, and keep asking if they could eat with them. They agree. You feel the gaze of Gojo on your back, but you look away and decide to sit down with your group of friends to instead eat with them. It would be suspicious if you stayed all the time with them, and you still wanted to spend some time with your own friends.
You eat your sandwich peacefully, unable to keep your mind on track, always lost in thoughts daydreaming about the black and white haired men. You were wondering if something else would happen during this trip. You hoped so. Your friends had to snap you back of your reverie quite often, laughing.
Later, when you all were back to the camp, everyone rushed to the hot baths. It was a chance that they were available for you, but you had to wait a bit before being able to go relax, since you had to do the checkups of the furnitures with your teachers.
“Y/n, can you check if everything is here ?” asks Suguru, holding a list of paper in front of your eyes. You nod, and walk inside the reception of the building and count if all the bags were there.
“You okay here ? My poor y/n, I’m sure you wanna go to the baths to relax, am I right ?” purrs Satoru behind you, crossing his arms over his chest. You lift your head to look at him.
“I’m good, at least I will be alone in the baths, nobody to annoy me.” You shrug, and then Satoru bends down and grabs a bag of marshmallows as he hums at your answer.
“What do you think about marshmallows to eat at the bonfire tomorrow night ? Suguru said that you all weren’t kids anymore, and that maybe they wouldn’t want to,” he complains, a pout forming on his lips as he looks at the sweet treats.
“No, I think that’s a good idea to do on the last night here. I mean, I’ll personally gladly enjoy it,” you answer with a smile, crossing your hands behind your back. Satoru grins.
“Oh yeah ? Perfect then. You really are always here to help us out, y/n. I should offer you more private tutoring as a thank you, don’t you think ?”
“Professor, it’s-”
“Satoru. When we are alone you can call me by my name, like at the bar,” he cuts you before letting you continue, stepping closer as he opens the bag of sweets and he plops one in his mouth.
“Satoru, then. I was saying that having extra tutoring wouldn’t be very fair for the other students that struggle in your class. Isn’t it favoritism ?” you repeat.
“Life’s not fair, y/n. Call it what you want, favoritism or not. You should take the opportunity, don’t you think ?” He retorts swiftly, tilting his head to the side, looking at you through his sunglasses. You swallow your saliva, batting your lashes one second to let you have the time to think properly.
“Well..”
“Think about it,” he cuts you off, putting his hand on your shoulder. You simply nod, gazing at his long fingers, and at the same time Suguru arrives. You turn around to face him.
“Am I interrupting something ?” he asks, eying you down, the corner of his lips lifting in a small smirk and raising his eyebrows.
“We were just talking about me tutoring her, no harm in that, right ?” Satoru replies coolly, and Suguru stares back at him with an equally steady gaze, his eyes flickering over to your for a moment.
“No.”
“Is there something you wanted ?” the white haired one asks, stepping back and eating another marshmallow.
“Yeah. Y/n, did you finish checking the bags ?” he turns around to face you, hands in his pocket nonchalantly as he approaches you.
“Yes, everything is in order,” you nod, answering.
“Good, well then you are free to go to the hot baths if you want,” he smiles, and Satoru takes the opportunity to slide his arm around the shoulder of Suguru, grinning like an idiot.
“We should go too, Sugu’,” he coos exaggeratedly. You chuckle and excuse yourself, walking away to prepare yourself to relax in the hot water.
Inside the public bath, nobody else is around since all the other students finished long ago and were spending time outside, helping to prepare dinner. You take a deep breath. You sink in the water, your sore muscles getting almost magically healed by the warmth, closing your eyes. You open them back when you hear on the other side of the wall made in bamboo, inside the male public bath, two familiar voices.
It was Gojo and Geto, and you couldn’t help but fluster at the idea that they were naked on the other side of the baths. You obviously couldn’t see them, nor they could see you, but your fantasies thought otherwise.
You try to not imagine lewd things, but it was hard to, even though it was bad. It’s been years that you were untouched, having no time for dating or hookups, not wanting to do so. Yet, it made you frustrated that your sexual life was so low. It’s maybe for that, that you were having weird ideas about your teachers, your crush on them not helping at all. But the images of their hands around your limbs, innocently supporting you earlier to not fall. Or the way they said your name, acted with you for months now, the fact that you knew they were currently sexually active as they admitted in the past, having their so called “fun”... Was it so wrong to desire them ? They didn’t know anything, it was in between yourself and nobody else. Your little secret. You didn’t cause any harm after all.
“You really couldn’t keep it in your pants, uh ?” You suddenly hear the voice of Suguru from the other side of the baths. Curious, even though it was wrong, you try to listen to their conversation.
“Can you blame me ? Do you see how she looks at us ? I couldn’t resist asking her, there is nothing wrong with that,” retorts Satoru.
“Yeah, well, at least I know how to control myself. We are in no position to make a move on her.”
“That’s so fucking annoying. She is just my type, what a bummer,” sighs Satoru. You wonder what they were talking about, and more likely about who. You frown, moving slowly in the bath to get closer to the wall to eavesdrop better. What were you even doing ? !
“If you really want to make a move on her, we should wait for her to graduate, like that, there will be no problem,” replies Suguru. You open your eyes wide at what they said. Did you imagine it ? No, clearly not. You try to not make any sound as you move even closer, but the water betrays you.
“Yeah yeah, I know. But damn, she clearly has a crush on us, Sugu’. It’s hard to stay professional sometimes,” he groans.
“To be honest, we aren’t really professional with her. Even less you…”
“Hey, how about we do a small move on her, just to see if she is willing or not. If she doesn’t, then that’s too bad, we stop everything. If she does, well... we’ll see, yeah ?”
“It’s another one of your bad ideas,” answers Suguru in a long sigh.
“Come on, don’t be so uptight, I know you are curious.” You swear you could imagine a grin forming on the lips of Gojo just by his cocky tone of voice. There is a small moment of quietness, before you hear something again.
“Deal.”
You bite hard on your lips to not make any noise of surprise, shocked by what you just heard. You decide to not stay any longer and quickly leave the hot bath in panic.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the walls, Satoru grins mischievously, and Suguru slides his hand in his wet long black hair.
“Do you think she heard us ?” asks Gojo, playing with the water while sinking a bit more in the warmth around him.
“Of course she did. She was the last one to enter the baths, everyone else was outside cooking dinner,” answers Geto confidently, stretching his arms and looking at the wall.
“Then that’s perfect, at least she can prepare herself now for what is coming,” chuckles Satoru, gazing at his best friend.
“Don’t be too mean, Satoru.”
“You say that, but in between the two of us, you are the one that is a damn sadic sometimes. Am I right ?”
Suguru simply grins as an answer.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Tonight was the second and last night of your trip. Since yesterday, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you heard in the hot baths. Were they talking about you, or someone else ? You couldn’t know, but yet, deep in your heart, you hoped it was indeed you. The following day you kept being shy around them, unable to forget their words echoing in your mind. Each time they were talking to you, slightly touching you, like a hand on your shoulder, or the way they looked at you, you felt your heart hammering in your chest like a wild horse.
You were sitting on a truck in front of the bonfire, next to your friends, roasting marshmallows thanks to the idea of Gojo. Everyone was happily talking, drinking beer and munching on the melted sweets. You kept avoiding their eyes, and you knew that they sensed it.
You look up at them, at how attractive they looked with the reflection of the flames on their face and body. Suguru was wearing a black hoodie with black sweatpants, sitting on a manspread while turning the stick with the marshmallow on it. His hair was half tied in a bun, his little bang falling back on his face. Satoru was wearing blue jeans with a sweater too, a gray one. He wasn’t wearing his usual sunglasses, the warmth of the fire illuminating his pretty eyes. You try to look away, mesmerized, but then Suguru looks at you and grins. A grin that didn’t look so innocent.
At the same time, other students keep their conversation with them. One of them asks something about the last lesson of the class of Satoru, and he stretches his long limbs gazing at you before looking back at the student.
“Aww come on, I don’t want to think about work right now. Let’s talk about it once we are back on campus, okay guys ?” he answers.
“Last lesson was so hard, is it possible to have some personal tutoring with you, professor ?” coos a student with mid length hair, batting their lashes.
“Nah, sorry, I don’t do tutoring. But, I can send a file of some explained exercises, and training to do, it will help you,” he replies, but the way he said that he doesn’t do tutoring, his eyes were on you, boring into yours. You gulp, he was blatantly lying, and you were the only one, aside from Suguru, to know.
They complain, and your friends do too, saying they wished they could assist to some special tutoring. Well, you keep your mouth shut, unable to say that you already had one tutoring from him in the past, and that he proposed to do more for you. It really was favoritism, and you felt kinda bad, but, as Gojo said, you shouldn't miss such an opportunity. Life was unfair, after all.
“Y/n, can you help me bring more wood for the bonfire ?” asks suddenly Suguru, standing up from the truck and showing with his chin the way towards where he wanted you to follow him. You look at first surprised, nervous to be alone with him, but still nod and stand up after a few short seconds. You were excited too, some heat pooling in your lower stomach at the idea.
“Satoru couldn’t help ?” you question as you walk next to him, away of the bonfire.
“For now, we need to keep at least one of us present, since some students are drinking alcohol. Safety first,” he explains as you both arrive in a secluded area of the camp with the necessary firewood.
“Yeah, that’s logical,” you smile a bit awkwardly when you reply, and he leans against the tarpaulin that covers the wood from being wet.
“Sorry, I half lied. I wanted to smoke too, actually,” he admits as he slides a cigarette in between his lips and lights it with his lighter, inhaling softly and then blowing the toxic smoke in the darkness of the night. You look at him, almost in awe, unable to not look at his lips or his fingers turning red from the weather.
“I don’t mind,” you shake your head slightly, and he smirks.
“The way you look at me makes it look like you want one too,” he muses, tilting his head on the side and eying you down. Well, you wanted him more than anything else, but you wouldn’t refuse something to ease your nerves.
“Kinda, yeah.”
“I shouldn’t do that, but… here you go,” he proposes as he takes one from his pack, and gives it to you. You thank him and grab it.
Expect you didn’t have any lighter on you, Suguru realized that. He keeps his usual unreadable face, but then steps closer and leans towards you. The tip of his cigarette kisses yours, and you fluster at the situation, yet you try to keep your cool as you inhale, lightening it. You blow the smoke away, surprised that he did such a gesture.
“Thank you,” you whisper in the quietness of the area.
“I’m just doing what you did for me last time,” he answers as a small smirk forms at the corner of his lips. Right, you remember your bold move some weeks ago, and get even more embarrassed.
“Well, about that…”
“Are you nervous, y/n ?” he cuts you in the middle of your sentence, and that throws you off guard.
“Nervous ? What ?” you almost stutter, chocking on the smoke, not expecting for him to ask that. His purple eyes stay right on you, unwavering.
“Yeah, since yesterday night I feel like you are quite on edge. Did something happen ?” he continues, in a worried tone of voice, but you knew that he wasn’t really worried. He knew something, clearly. Suguru wasn’t dumb.
“I guess I’m just a bit tired because of the hiking of yesterday,” you lie, he finishes his cigarette quickly, looking at you.
“Is that so ?” Suguru raise his eyebrows and then you finish your cigarette too, putting it in the trashbean next to the tarpaulin. He lifts it and take some wood, giving you a small portion in your arms. He takes more.
“Yep, just tired,” you insist, trying to act nonchalant by shrugging and bringing closer to your chest the wood. He walks next to you, showing you to follow him back to the bonfire where you could hear the sounds of people cheering, laughing and having fun.
The moment you arrive, Satoru looks at the both of you, and then Suguru discreetly leans towards your ear before whispering :
“You know it’s bad to eavesdrop, right, y/n ?”
You freeze. He simply smiles without even looking at you, and throws the wood in the fire before dusting off his hands. Air is knocked out of your lungs, in a gasp, and you awkwardly throw too the wood in the bonfire. He knew, he fucking knew. And the way Satoru is gazing at you with a cocky smirk, you know that he knows too.
You just wanted to bury yourself of embarrassment right now. But you couldn’t act like a coward, and instead sit back on the truck with your friends, trying to forget about it. But your hands were sweating, a lot, and you were so so flustered, remembering what they said. That was a dangerous game to play, a very dangerous one.
But the adrenaline in your veins, pulsating towards your heart, making your body warmer by the second, makes you want more, and more, even more. Will it go farther, will they make a move as they proposed ? But the first question was : were they talking about you, or someone else ? You still had no real confirmation, after all.
Some minutes pass, and the moment that some students go back to their dorms to sleep, being exhausted from drinking too much beer, you decide to follow them. You help them, after all it was your duty as the president of the class, even though it was your club and not your course. Nonetheless, a whole hour passes where you are incredibly busy doing so, and it’s helping you forget for a while your nervousness.
You sigh, finally done. The other students that still didn’t go to sleep, were minding their own business without needing any supervision. You stretch, clearly exhausted and your muscles being sore from bending over again and again to support some drunk heads towards their bed.
As you step back in the empty corridor, your body hits the chest of someone. You turn around, only to be face to face to your troublemakers.
“Y/n ? Aren’t you sleeping too ?” asks Satoru, raising his eyebrows and leaning towards, towering over you with Suguru that keeps his hands in his pockets.
“Not yet, I was busy helping out some classmates” you stutter, backing away, clenching your heart with your hand as you squeeze a bit your thighs together.
“Us too. Hmmm, well. How about before sleeping we spend some time together ? Since it’s the last night. If you want, of course,” purrs Suguru by stepping closer, tilting his head to the side to analyze you better.
“Sugu’, I think she is way too shy now. Maybe leave her alone, we wouldn’t want our poor y/n to feel uncomfortable after what she heard yesterday,” continues Satoru, leaning his forearm on the shoulder of the black haired one, a slight sas smile on his face and shaking his head in a mock concern.
Yes, you were feeling shy. But you clearly wanted to fulfill your dream, of having something more with them, no matter how problematic it was. It was maybe your only chance right now. So you quickly shake your head, deciding to be brave in your desire.
“No no no, I’m good. I don’t mind staying with the both of you before sleeping. I’m not really tired, anyways…” you exclaim, and a big, mischievous smile stretches their lips, and you just feel like you were dancing in the palm of their hands.
“Aww really ? That’s good. Then come here,” replies Satoru as he grabs your shoulders and brings you with them, walking alongside you.
The three of you arrived at the public living room of the building of the camp, but nobody else was there. It was empty. The moonlight outside illuminates the place through the big window. They close the door behind them, and make you sit on the couch that was in front of the fireplace. You are now sitting in between the two of them, the arm of the white haired one still around your shoulders, meanwhile the thigh of Suguru brushes yours.
Satoru drinks some water in a cup, and he looks at you. His fingers that were around your shoulders, softly caressing your skin, brings you closer. At the same time, Suguru stretches his arm behind your head, slowly spreading more of his legs, leaving you little space.
“Y/n, if you are here, it’s for a reason, right ?” asks the black haired one, glancing at you. His hand behind your head comes to lightly touch your hair, and you can’t help but shiver.
“You aren’t as innocent as we thought, uh ?” continues Satoru, putting down the glass of water on the table, long fingers sliding under your chin to tilt it towards him. You swallow your saliva, and don’t realize how you bite your lower lip of apprehension. You felt like he was staring right at your soul with his piercing blue eyes shining in the dim atmosphere.
“Why would I be ?” you retort back. The mood felt electric. The hand of Suguru slides down around your waist now, gripping your soft flesh through your shirt.
“Well, we thought it was cute, your crush on us. Even though we are your professors. You know it isn’t right, yeah ?” adds Suguru, and you try to look at him by turning around your head, yet Satoru keeps his grip on your chin firm. You frown, and decide to gather your courage.
“So what ? I’m 22, not some kid. And from what I know, many other students on campus clearly have a crush on both of you too. I don’t cause any harm,” you defend yourself, and almost gasp as the cold and cool fingers of Geto slide under your shirt to gently caress your skin.
“Oh but yes, you caused us harm, y/n. You lied. You said you had feelings for no one on campus, including teachers. We hate people that lie, did you know ?” he whispers, his nails now digging on your waist and you let out a small noise escaping your lips.
“How about you say sorry ?” Satoru grins saying that, leaning forward, his breath on your neck, and softly kissing your pulsating point. You immediately squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease the burning desire in your lower stomach.
“Sorry ? I did nothing wrong-”
“Y/n, we don’t like people that lie. You should be sorry. Not only for that, but sorry too because you were listening to our conversation in the hot baths yesterday. You are an adult, not some kid, as you said. Excusing yourself should be easy, right ?” he whispers in your other ear, his long black hair caressing your shoulder and cheek.
At the same time the sweet lips of Satoru tingle on your neck, and you shiver. You were turned on as ever, and you just wanted to play their little game even more. It was so thrilling. The wet patch on your panties confirmed it.
“Don’t worry, it will be our little secret. Nobody else will know, just you, Suguru, and me. So ? You in, y/n ?” asks Satoru, licking his lips as he mischievously looks at you, and you were screaming of happiness internally. Your dream was coming true, finally. After years of fantasizing, daydreaming, and silly crushes. It was happening ! If you died after it, you were sure you would be happy.
“Fuck. Yeah,” you whisper in a breath, and the moment you give your consent, the lips of Satoru smash against yours.
You moan, his other hand grabbing your hand and he leans towards you. He moves his mouth sensually against yours, before his soft like velvet tongue caresses yours. Fuck, that was so hot. He kissed like a God, and your years of inactivity made you shyer than you thought. He presses your back against the chest of his best friend, leaving you no room to escape. You rub your thighs together, yet the strong hand of Suguru slides in between them and parts them apart.
“No no no, you can’t, y/n. Only us can. That’s what you get for not saying sorry,” he coos, his fingers caressing your clothed cunt, pressing exactly where your pulsating point was, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Satoru swallows your whimper, deepening the kiss, making it almost hard to keep up.
You had no more time to lament yourself, that the hand of Suguru slips under your pants, and then under your panties. His slender finger slides in between your folds, and the contrast in between the warmth of your cunt and the coldness of his skin makes your legs shake for a second.
“Satoru, she is dripping wet. Look at that. So cute,” meanly says Suguru, downcasting his soaked digits, and you fluster when you look at them. Satoru even grins against your lips, chuckling a bit.
“I mean, poor y/n didn’t have sex for a long time… Pretty cunt was waiting for us, yeah ?” the white haired one adds, winking at you, and he lets Suguru grab your head quite roughly to make you look at him.
“Maybe you should taste yourself, so you can realize by yourself how needy you are, y/n.” It was more like an order rather than a question. At the same time Satoru is busy unbuttoning your shirt, freeing your breast with your already perked nipples.
“I-” you start to say, but then he softly puts his soaked digits on your tongue.
“Suck”, he commands. You do so, your tongue swirling around his fingers, and his smile gets larger as he looks at you obediently following what he said. As you suck, Satoru is busy sucking your nipples instead, his other hand occupied fondling it to stimulate both at the same time. You moan on the fingers of Suguru at the feeling, and he slowly takes them off, looking at the saliva that lubricated them. He kisses you now, sliding back his fingers under your pants to reach your twitching pussy. The wetness of your saliva gets mixed with your juice, and he at first circles your clit with his thumb, before letting his middle finger enter your tight hole inch by inch to be sure you were comfortable. You let out a strangled whimper, and Satoru takes the opportunity to bite on your bullied nipple, moving to the center of your breast, letting out a mark.
Soon, the whole finger of Geto is pumping down your cunt, and your hips move slightly. Satoru grabs them, stopping you from squirming too much.
“Already can’t handle it ?” he mocks you.
“Isn’t she kinda pathetic ?” Suguru adds another finger saying that, his thumb still circling your pulsating and red clit.
“So weak, yeah,” answers Satoru, taking off your pants in a swift move. The first seconds, your legs are cold, but the warmth of the fireplace right in front of you on the couch, or the way your body is burning up from pleasure, the coldness soon fades away.
Suguru goes deeper, making you twitch, his long fingers being able to reach your sweet spot. He bullies harder your gummy walls, and you part your lips as you become a moaning mess. Yet, his lips smash against yours again, preventing you from being too loud. You couldn’t get caught, after all.
“We should reward her like that every time she nails her exam, don’t you think, Sugu’ ?” asks Satoru, now sliding off your panties, admiring your dripping cunt swallowing perfectly the fingers of his best friend. He bites the inside of his mouth, cheeks turning red and a cocky smirk spreading on his face.
“Does she even deserve it ? I dunno…” Suguru muses, and you try to reply that yes you do, but the pleasure is too intense you can’t even form a coherent sentence.
“Awww, you’re being so mean to her,” he chuckles, kissing your lonely neck, right there on your throat.
“Feels like she enjoys it, right y/n ?” he coos, looking at you as he stops to make out with you for a second, biting your lower lip.
Your only answer is the way your eyes roll back in your skull, cumming hard on his hand, feeling an explosion in your lower stomach as you squirt for the first time of your life. You thought you saw Heavens, and you couldn’t believe that the single hand of Geto Suguru could do such a thing. When you come back from your high, you butterfly open your eyes, panting and legs shaking.
“What a waste, y/n.” Satoru pouts, and you have no time to think that he lowers his body and digs in, his mouth directly on your cunt. When you were about to moan of surprise, your mouth was filled by the dripping fingers of Suguru.
“You better be quiet, y/n. We wouldn’t want you to wake up your classmates,” coos Suguru. You almost choke on them.
Your thighs are closing back on Satoru’s head, he chuckles, and it rumbles against your clit. With his two strong hands, he opens them back, tongue latching on your poor abused bundle of nerves. You throw your head back, the free hand of his best friend now playing with your breast. His other, that was first on your mouth, slides down on your throat and grabs it. His bicep flexes around your head when he does so, crushing you even more against him.
“So pretty, you’re a real mess. Who would have thought, hmm ?” says Suguru in a low voice, humming to himself as his fingers contract around your neck. You gasp, but then he licks your lower lip before kissing you to leave you breathless.
Satoru continues to eat you out like a starved man, and no matter how much you were squirming, his hands were firmly holding you in place.
“You taste so fucking good, y/n,” he mumbles against your folds, his tongue sliding inside your dripping hole and his nose hitting your clit. It was driving you mad, they both were keeping you on the edge.
Each time you felt like they were about to let you cum, either Suguru would stop Satoru, or Satoru would slow down by himself. You just wanted to feel relief, and your whimpers got swallowed by the countless kisses of Geto. It was damn torture, yet it felt so damn good. So sweet but almost painfully maddening.
“If you say sorry, we’ll let you cum, y/n. How about that ?” Whispers Suguru in between kisses, giving a glance to Satoru that returned the same one. His mouth was full of your cunt, letting his best friend do the talking.
“Sorry,” you mumble in a strangled moan.
“Uh-uh. I didn't hear you well. Repeat that ?”
You felt like crying. You were so, so, so close. Fuck. His stupid pretty face made you unable to not obey.
“I’m sorry !” Your eyelids are palpitating and you just fuck off your conscience, not giving a damn about your dignity anymore. Tonight there's no point in thinking too much, they were just here to consume you to the point of overdose.
Suguru grins, and with just a glance, Satoru makes you cum, hard. You throw your head back, your sounds muffled by the hand of Suguru as he kisses your neck. Satoru helps you to ride down your high, until he kisses quite softly your inner thighs. He lifts himself up, and presses his lips against yours to let you taste yourself. Suguru slowly lets go of your neck, his hand supporting you to sit comfortably back. You looked at them with desire, now addicted to the bone and just wanting more.
“Aw, don’t give us that look, y/n, because there will be no more for you tonight” pouts Satoru in a mocking way, shaking his head and tilting your head by grabbing your chin softly.
“What ?” you ask confused, frowning and clearly frustrated.
“Hmm, if you wanna go all the way with us, you have to wait to graduate your major,” starts Suguru, “and then, only then, you’ll taste real heaven. But until this day,” continues Satoru, “we’ll have to keep it down. Deal, y/n ?” finishes Suguru. And they both have the wildest grin ever, one that makes you shiver.
Yeah, one year and a half. One more fucking year and an half before you graduate. You just couldn’t wait for it to happen, to be free to woo them as you wanted, and to have a better taste of Heaven, as they said. You could confirm it.
Would you be able to keep it down, like Suguru said ? Or end up giving in before graduating ? You still had time to see by yourself. It was thrilling, but a torture. Maybe dangerous, toxic and clearly problematic, but it’s been long ago since you threw away any logical thoughts.
THE END
Junior year rolls around and ohh has highschoolsweetheart!Eren changed.
You hear him before you see him—his voice cutting through the morning hum of students catching up after the summer break. It’s familiar, unmistakable, and yet, when you turn around, your breath catches in your throat.
Oh.
This was not the Eren Yeager you left behind in sophomore year.
Gone was the lanky boy who used to trip over his own feet during gym class, the one who wore those wrinkled short-sleeved button-downs with the same rotation of black skinny jeans and scuffed Converse. The Eren standing before you now was… different.
Taller. Broader. The summer had done something to him—his arms, his shoulders, his entire build had filled out in a way that made your brain short-circuit for a moment. His hair, once perpetually messy but in a boyish kind of way, had grown out just enough to curl at the ends. He still had that same wild energy, the same excitement in his eyes as he grinned at you, but there was something undeniably new about him. And he was pretty. Not that he wasn’t always attractive—he was, and you’d never denied it to yourself. But this? This was unfair.
“y/n!!” He reaches you in a few easy strides, completely oblivious to the way your brain is currently buffering. Before you can even react, he’s throwing an arm around your shoulders like it’s nothing, pulling you in for one of those classic Yeager side hugs, all warm and familiar and way too casual for the internal meltdown you’re having.
“Dude, I haven’t seen you all summer!” he exclaims, ruffling your hair in that annoying way he always does, like you’re still kids and he doesn’t look like he walked straight out of a teenage coming-of-age movie. “Why’d you ignore my texts? I was about to file a missing person report.”
You blink. He’s looking at you like he hasn’t changed at all, like he isn’t standing there all tall and golden, like he isn’t suddenly one of the hottest guys in school. And you? You’re still standing there like an idiot, trying to piece together a response.
“I— I was busy,” you manage to say, and it’s only half a lie. You had been busy, but you’d also needed space. Space to sort out the mess of feelings that being best friends with Eren Yeager had turned into over the years.
Eren, being Eren, doesn’t notice your internal crisis. “Pfft, busy. You mean ghosting me?” he teases, nudging your side. “I should’ve just shown up at your house.”
You scoff, regaining some of your composure as you roll your eyes. “Like my mom wouldn’t have loved that. She’s still convinced we’re secretly dating.”
Eren barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he tosses it back. “She’s been saying that since middle school. At this point, I think she’s just manifesting.”
Your heart lurches at his words, but you shove the feeling down. This is Eren. Your best friend. The same guy who used to perform Justin Bieber songs in the middle of the quad for you. He might look different now, but he’s still him. Even if the way people are starting to stare at him—at you two together—is making your stomach twist in a way you’re not quite ready to admit.
The first day of junior year had barely started, and yet, you already felt like you were walking through some alternate reality. Eren was still draped over you, arm slung around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world, completely oblivious to the way people were looking. Correction: the way people were looking at him. It was impossible to ignore. You could hear the whispers as you walked down the hallway together, the way heads turned when he passed.
You roll your eyes, scoffing as you nudge him off you, but the warmth of his arm lingers on your shoulder. “Yeah, well, she’s gonna have to give it up eventually. We’re not dating.” You don't know if you say it to convince yourself that there is no possibility it would become reality.
Eren grins like a bad little kid, his eyes glinting in that Eren Yeager way that usually spells trouble. “Not yet.”
Your heart does this annoying little skip in your chest, but you quickly shove him with more force this time, scowling to hide the smile that forms against your own will. “Shut up.”
He just laughs, dodging your next attack like the menace he is. “Damn, I missed you,” he grins, and there’s something about the way he says it—casual, easy, genuine—that makes your stomach flip. You hate how easily he gets under your skin. How he annoyingly burrowed his way into your heart.
Before you can retaliate, a group of girls passes by, whispering not-so-subtly behind their hands. You recognize some of them—volleyball girls, cheerleaders, a couple of girls from your English class—but they barely spare you a glance. Their eyes are all locked on Eren. And he knows it. The worst part? You know he knows it, too.
One of them, a tall blonde with perfectly curled hair, flashes him a bright smile. “Hey, Eren,” she says, twirling a strand around her finger like it's a damn high school movie. You're usually a girl's girl, but right now you were shooting daggers at her.
Eren, to his credit, doesn’t look phased. He just tilts his head, grinning in that annoying way that makes your blood boil. “Hey.”
That’s it. Hey. And yet, the girl giggles, and you want to die. It’s like some cruel joke. Last year, nobody would have given him a second glance. He was your Eren—goofy, loud, a little dorky, always getting himself into trouble. Now? Now he’s on the varsity football team, his arms are looking a little too good in that fitted black tee, and suddenly he’s the guy every girl is looking at.
You hate it. You don’t even know why you hate it, but you do.
Eren barely acknowledges them, turning back to you like nothing happened. “Anyway,” he says, slinging an arm over your shoulder again like it’s nothing, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you. “What class you got first?”
You shake yourself out of whatever weird haze you’re in, clearing your throat. “Uh—math. Mr. Moblit.” Your eyes scan over the salmon pink piece of paper that held your class schedule, and Eren leans in just a little too close to read it.
He groans, dramatically throwing his head back. “Ugh, lucky. I got stuck with Mr. Shadis.”
You snicker. “That sucks.” You can't help but smile when you see the same characteristics from Eren. Even if he did look fine ass hell, oh so different from last year, he still acted the same.
“I know, right?” He sighs, dropping his head onto your shoulder in fake despair. “If I fail, just know it’s because Shadis has it out for me.”
“You fail because you never pay attention,” you remind him. You've had plenty of classes with Eren, with him always sitting next to you. He would be doing anything but pay attention.
“Okay, but, like, who even uses calculus in real life?” Eren squints his eyes, and you can feel every little movement he does as his head rests on your shoulder.
You roll your eyes, shoving him off you for the second time, ignoring the way your skin tingles where his head was resting. “Come on, dummy. We’re gonna be late.”
He groans again but follows after you anyway, falling into step beside you like always. Like nothing’s changed. Except everything has changed. And you’re starting to realize you have no idea what to do about it.
Lunch rolls around, and you find yourself dragging your feet through the cafeteria, still processing the weirdness of the morning. You’re not sure what to make of Eren’s sudden glow-up—or the way your chest does this annoying little flutter every time he looks at you like nothing’s changed. All the effort of trying to get over your little crush on Eren was wiped clean, the boy really had a grip on your heart now.
You end up at your usual lunch table, the one you share with Ymir and Historia, Sasha too but she was going to the culinary club's welcome party because duh, Sasha isn't going to miss out on extra free food. The two of them are already sitting, bickering about something stupid, but the moment you drop into the seat next to them, it’s like they both sense something’s off. They can feel the energy radiating off of you, the look on your face when something is bothering you. Ymir eyes you with a raised brow, and Historia’s gaze flickers to the door, where Eren is walking in, looking effortlessly cool, chatting with Armin as they make their way toward your table.
“Oh, boy,” Ymir mutters under her breath. “You’ve got that look on your face. What’s going on with you and Yeager?”
"How do you know it's something between me and Eren?" You raise an eyebrow, a little frustrated that she knows you so well.
"It's always about Yeager," Ymir and Historia say in unison, giving you that look of obviousness.
You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing. We’re fine.” A deep sigh still escapes your lips as you open the bottle of apple juice your lunch came with.
“Mmmhmm,” Ymir hums skeptically, but she doesn’t push it. Historia, on the other hand, flashes you a concerned smile. Her brows perch up with sympathy.
“You sure? You’ve been acting… different.” Her voice is soft, almost too knowing, but it’s enough to make you squirm.
“Seriously, I’m fine,” you say, the words coming out a little sharper than you intended. But it’s not like they’re wrong. You have been acting weird. And it’s all because of Eren, damn that boy.
Your thoughts are cut short as Eren plops down next to you, his familiar arm slinging around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yo! What’s up, guys?” His voice is as loud and cheerful as always, but there’s something in the way his eyes linger on you that makes your stomach twist. Ymir raises an eyebrow, but Eren doesn’t seem to notice. Historia’s gaze flits between you two, but she stays quiet, focusing on her lunch.
“Hey, y/n,” Eren says, his voice a little softer now, and you feel your heart race. “You doing okay?” Your eyes flicker to him, seeing his pretty face in a concerned look as he stares at the side of your internally panicked face. It's enough to make your insides ache, enough to make your heart beat a thousand times faster.
“Yeah, just… tired,” you reply, shrugging it off like it’s no big deal, even though your mind is anything but calm.
“You sure?” His expression softens, and for a second, it’s like the world fades out, leaving just the two of you. His hand, warm against your back, feels like it’s burning right through your shirt. “You don’t look fine.”
You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “I’m fine, really.”
Eren nods but doesn’t look convinced. He leans in a little, lowering his voice so only you can hear, “If you say so. Just know, if you need anything, I’ve got your back, yeah?”
Your heart stutters at his words, the genuine concern in his voice tugging at something deep inside you. But the moment is interrupted by the loud cackle of a voice from across the table.
“You hear that, Historia?” Ymir teases, her grin far too knowing. “Eren’s looking out for y/n. Makes me wonder if you’ve got competition, huh?”
Eren laughs, unbothered, and flicks Ymir’s ear. “Shut up, Ymir. You know it’s just—” He looks at you for a moment, his grin faltering, then shrugs it off. “Just what we do. We're best friends. Nothing weird.”
You feel your heart drop a little, but you brush it off. “Right. Nothing weird.” It's almost as if you're trying to reassure yourself, which, let's be honest, you really were trying to. Trying to convince yourself that it's all in your head.
But the way Eren’s smiling at you, like he knows more than he’s letting on, makes your pulse race. His eyes linger a little too long, and you wonder if he’s trying to figure something out, too. The tension is palpable, thick enough that even Ymir and Historia seem to sense it. They share a glance, but neither of them says anything. Instead, Ymir kicks you under the table—hard enough to make you wince.
“Aye, stop thinking too much,” Ymir's expression says, clearly reading you like an open book. She doesn't even have to say anything for you to understand what she's trying to say “Just enjoy the moment. Eren’s not going anywhere.” And for the first time today, you almost believe her.
The conversation drifts as you try to settle back into the easy rhythm of lunch. But the moment is short lived. The clatter of trays and the loud chatter of students fills the air, and before you can catch your breath, a new wave of noise arrives.
Reiner, with his usual cocky grin, leads the pack of jocks toward your table. His broad frame and confident swagger draw attention the way Eren’s used to, but this time, you can’t help but notice the way the girls at nearby tables watch Reiner too. He’s got that easy, good-looking charm, but there's something about Eren that just hits different, even now, when the jocks are slowly taking over the cafeteria’s social pecking order.
“Yo, Yeager!” Reiner calls, leaning over the back of your seat, making you jump in surprise. “You ditching us for the weirdos?”
Eren’s arm drops from your shoulders as he shifts his attention to Reiner, but not without a small, teasing grin. “If you’re calling them weirdos, I think you’ve got the wrong table, man.”
A few of the other guys laugh, though it’s more because it’s Eren, and he’s got that goofy, unpredictable humor. The girls now huddled around your table all stand up a little straighter, their eyes darting toward Eren, and you feel a sudden, sharp pang of frustration deep in your chest. You try to ignore it, to keep the casual mask in place, but something’s different now. The subtle tension between Eren and you—it’s like it’s palpable to everyone but the two of you.
Reiner, not one to let Eren off easy, takes a seat beside him, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Come on, man, we’ve got practice in an hour. I’m dragging you back, and we’re gonna talk strategy, not... whatever this is.” His eyes flick over to you, and you swear you catch a hint of amusement in them. It’s like he knows something you don’t.
Eren glances back at you, his expression a little unsure, like he’s debating whether to stay or go. For a brief moment, his eyes soften, but then, in typical Eren fashion, he shrugs and grins, looking more at ease than you feel. A part of you hopes he'll choose to stay, just to reassure you that things really didn't change.
“Alright, alright, I’ll go. But only because you’re begging.” He stands up, brushing his hands off as if he’s wiping away the conversation, like he doesn’t even see the way your heart drops when he stands a little too far away from you now.
You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words get stuck. All that leaves your mouth is a disappointed huff of a breath. Eren turns back toward you, like he’s about to say something, but then his attention shifts to the group of jocks calling him over.
“Later, y/n!” he calls, throwing a casual wave over his shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much, alright?”
You’re left frozen, your hand still halfway raised as you force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. Reiner slaps Eren’s back in that overly friendly way he always does, and Eren just laughs, falling into step with him as they make their way to the other side of the cafeteria. You hate the way your stomach twists watching them go. It’s like they’re speaking an entirely different language—one you’re not part of. The table around you is quieter now. Historia looks at you, her expression sympathetic, but Ymir—well, she looks way too smug for your liking.
“Wanna talk about it?” Ymir teases, but it’s not unkind.
You sigh, dropping your gaze to your lunch. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Uh huh,” Ymir replies, that knowing smirk still lingering on her lips. “I’m pretty sure Eren’s just trying to keep his cool in front of the jocks. You’ve seen the way he’s been around you lately. He likes you, trust me.”
You frown, not sure how to respond. Eren might be acting like nothing’s changed, but everything has changed. And the worst part? You’re not sure if he even knows it yet.
“Don’t worry,” Historia sympathetically adds, her tone reassuring. “He’ll figure it out eventually. You’ll figure it out.”
You give a noncommittal hum, not sure if you're ready to figure anything out just yet. But as you glance across the room, watching Eren laugh with Reiner and the others, you can't shake the feeling that something’s coming. Something big. Some type of shift. You spend the rest of lunch pushing food around your tray, pretending not to notice the way your eyes keep flickering toward the jock table.
Eren looks good—annoyingly, frustratingly good. He’s leaned back in his chair, laughing at something Jean said, that lazy grin plastered across his face like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. His long fingers drum absentmindedly against the table, and when one of the cheerleaders—Annie’s friend Hitch, you think—leans in to whisper something to him, your stomach twists.
You snap your gaze away, cursing yourself. Why are you even watching? You’re not his girlfriend. You’re his best friend. And best friends do not sit there like jealous exes just because other girls are realizing what you’ve known for years—Eren Yeager is stupidly, effortlessly attractive.
“You’re making it too obvious.” Ymir’s voice is flat and teasing. You don’t even have to look at her to know she’s smirking.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, shoving a bite of food into your mouth just to have something to do.
“Mm. Right. And I’m straight.” Ymir leans on her fist, watching you with open amusement. Historia sighs, nudging her in the ribs before giving you a softer look.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Historia offers, “he hasn’t actually looked at her once.”
Your eyes dart up before you can stop yourself, and— Historia’s right. Eren’s nodding along to something Reiner’s saying, but his gaze keeps drifting. He’s scanning the cafeteria, like he’s looking for something. Or someone. And then, just like that, his eyes find yours. For a second, time stutters.
Eren’s lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting to catch you staring, and for a fleeting moment, something flickers across his face. Something unsure. Something vulnerable. But then Reiner nudges him—too hard, probably on purpose—and Eren snaps out of it, laughing as he shoves him back. And just like that, the moment is gone. You exhale sharply, turning away. You hate this. The push and pull, the way he makes you feel like maybe—just maybe—there’s something more, only to act like nothing’s changed the next second. Maybe nothing has changed. Maybe the only thing different is you.
“You should talk to him,” Historia says gently.
You scoff, picking at your food. “And say what? ‘Hey, Eren, just wondering if you’ve realized you’re hot yet and if that means you’re too good for me now?’”
Ymir cackles, hands drumming on the lunch table as she childishly kicks her feet. “I mean, I would pay to see you say that to his face.”
You groan, rubbing your temples. “This is a nightmare. It's never been this complicated with Eren before.” It had always been complicated, but not this complicated.
Historia opens her mouth to say something else, but before she can, the cafeteria doors swing open, and the familiar screech of a whistle pierces the air.
“Football team! Practice starts now!” Coach Smith stands at the entrance, arms crossed, his stoic expression already promising death if they don’t get to moving. The jock table groans, but they all start standing, grabbing their trays. Eren stretches as he gets up, his shirt riding up just enough to show a hint of skin, and you swear you hear one of the volleyball girls sigh dreamily. You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.
Eren turns, catching your expression, and grins. “What’s that look for?”
You school your face into something neutral, a deadpan almost. “Nothing. Just wondering if you’ll survive an entire practice without getting distracted by your fan club.”
He blinks, then laughs—like really laughs, loud and unfiltered. “Pfft, fan club? Yeah, right.”
You open your mouth, ready to argue, but then you stop. Because—he’s serious. He really doesn’t see it. All the stares, the whispers, the way girls—entire groups of them—are looking at him like he hung the damn moon. He doesn’t even notice. Eren’s still just Eren, in his own head. You should be relieved. Maybe you are. But mostly, you just feel confused and overwhelmed.
“Well, try not to get tackled into the ground,” you say instead, grabbing your drink to take a sip.
Eren grins, nudging you lightly as he starts to walk away. “Aw, you worried about me, y/n?”
The drink nearly chokes you, the cooing tone of his voice making you feel uneasy and bashful. “Not even a little.”
He just laughs, throwing one last lazy wave over his shoulder before jogging after Reiner and the rest of the team. And you? You watch him go, stomach twisting, hating the way his absence already feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.
The late afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows over the football field. The team is mid-drill, running play after play under the sharp bark of Coach Smith. Eren is breathless, sweat slicking his skin, but his mind isn’t really in it. Not fully, anyway.
Because you’re sitting on the bleachers, and you’re laughing at something Historia just said, and it’s distracting as hell. His gaze keeps flickering toward the bleachers, toward where you’re sitting with your friends. You look relaxed, leaning back with one knee pulled up. He can’t hear a word from this far, but that doesn’t matter. He knows your expressions by heart—every little eye roll, every laugh, the way your lips purse when you’re pretending to be annoyed but aren’t really.
He’s staring again.
“Yeager! Focus!” The loud shout of Coach Smith jolts him out of his trance, but it’s too late. Whooosh.
Eren barely ducks in time to avoid a pass he wasn’t paying attention to. Jean groans in exasperation, throwing his head back and smacking his hands on his pads. “Dude, wake up! What the hell are you even looking at?”
Eren shakes his head quickly, clearing his throat. “Nothing,” he lies, trying to mask the way his heartbeat kicks up. Grabbing the football that he failed to catch, slackly tossing it back to Jean.
Jean, of course, is already following his gaze, his eyes landing exactly where Eren doesn’t want them to. The smirk that stretches across Jean’s face is almost unbearable. “Right. Nothing.”
Eren scowls, shoving Jean as he jogs past. But before he can settle back into formation, something shifts near the bleachers—movement that immediately snags his attention. Someone’s walking up to you. Eren’s brows furrow as he squints. The guy is tall, lanky, his bright red hair messy in a way that seems purposefully unkempt. He’s wearing a ripped band tee, chains dangling from his jeans, and—oh, great. Floch Forster.
The guy moves with a swagger that makes Eren’s teeth grind. Ripped jeans, faded punk band tee, chains dangling from his belt loops—he looks like he just crawled out of a basement concert. Floch has always been a talker, a surprisingly smooth one at that, and judging by the way he leans in, he’s in full flirt mode. Eren watches, growing tenser by the second. He expects you to roll your eyes, wave him off, something. But you don’t. You tilt your head slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. Why aren’t you moving away? Eren’s jaw tightens. Then Floch takes another step closer. That’s it.
Eren doesn’t even realize his feet are moving until Jean grabs his jersey. “Dude, where are you—?”
“I’ll be back,” Eren mutters, ripping himself free and jogging toward the bleachers before anyone can stop him.
You hadn’t expected company, least of all from Floch Forster. Historia had just nudged you, muttering something about incoming trouble, and before you could even react, there he was—Florian “Floch” Forster, king of misplaced confidence, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world. You don’t hate Floch. You don’t like him, either, but he’s harmless enough. He’s always been a little too flirty, but in a way that’s more for show than anything else.
“Well, well,” he drawls, his signature gaudy smirk already in place. “If it isn’t the prettiest girl in the bleachers.”
You exhale through your nose. “Oh, god.”
Floch grins, clearly unfazed. “What? That’s a genuine compliment. You’re breaking my heart here, y/n.” His tone is cocky, almost annoying.
You tilt your head, unimpressed. “Do you even have one?” A grin forms on your face, it felt kind of good to banter and maybe knock him down a peg.
“Oof.” He presses a dramatic hand to his chest, cheesing way too hard. “Harsh. But hey, I like a challenge. Y’know, if you ever wanna find out, I could show you—”
“You couldn’t,” you cut in. It's a little abrupt, shocks Historia a bit at the snappiness, but it just comes out.
Floch laughs, plopping down beside you with zero hesitation. “Alright, alright, I’ll cut to the chase.” He leans back on his palms, eyes flicking toward the football field before settling back on you. “How long are you gonna keep pretending your best friend isn’t in love with you?”
You choke on your drink, sitting up straighter now as you sputter a cough. “Excuse me?”
Floch just raises a brow, looking entirely too smug for your liking. “Come on, y/n. The guy stares at you like you hung the goddamn stars. It’s actually painful to watch.”
Your face burns, but you force a scoff. “You’re delusional.”
Floch shakes his head, watching your reaction closely. “Am I? He’s been in love with you since, what, forever? But the dude’s an idiot, so I get why you’re waiting. He’s probably still convinced you’re out of his league.” Out of his league?
Something about that statement makes your stomach clench. That’s not true. Right? Floch doesn’t miss the flicker of doubt in your eyes. His smirk stretches a little wider, sensing an opening.
“But y’know,” he continues, shifting closer, voice dropping just slightly, “if he’s not gonna make a move, maybe you should let someone else have a shot.”
Your lips part, caught off guard. “What?”
Floch leans in just enough for the air between you to thin, to start smelling like his axe cologne. “I’m just saying,” he murmurs. “Maybe you should let someone who actually sees you take you out sometime.”
Oh, you think, heartbeat stuttering slightly. Although your mind was still half focused on what he said about Eren. Before you can formulate a response, something shifts in the air—sharp and tense.
“Oh, hell no.”
The voice is unmistakable. Your head snaps up just in time to see Eren—sweaty, breathless, and looking pissed—hopping the railing in one effortless motion.
Floch doesn’t move. He just smirks. “Well, speak of the devil.”
Eren doesn’t respond, his fists clenching at his sides. His green eyes—usually filled with something bright, warm—are now dark with irritation.
“What the hell are you doing here, Forster?”
Floch tilts his head, all mock innocence. “Relax, man. Just having a friendly conversation.”
Eren’s jaw ticks. “Yeah? Well, have it somewhere else.”
The tension is thick, electric with an almost uncomfortable tension. You glance between them, unsure if you should intervene. Maybe you should, but all you can do is look up at Eren. The way some strands of hair stick to his forehead, the way his thick brows are furrowed. The way he almost seems territorial over you.
Floch exhales, shaking his head like this is all some kind of joke. He shifts his gaze back to you. “Really? You’re just gonna let him chase me off like that?”
You hesitate. And that hesitation is all Floch needs.
He incredulously chuckles under his breath, standing up and dusting himself off. “Man,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You really don’t see it, do you?”
Eren’s jaw tightens. “See what?”
Floch flashes one last cynical smirk before turning to leave. “Nothing, man. Nothing at all.”
And just like that, he’s gone, his chains jingling as he strolls down the metal steps like he hadn’t just stirred up a storm. The silence he leaves behind is suffocating.
You exhale, crossing your arms as you finally shake out of your daze. “That was so unnecessary.”
Eren scoffs, finally looking at you. “He’s a dick.”
You narrow your eyes. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
Eren looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a split second, something unreadable flickers behind his eyes. His lips part like he wants to say something—something important—but instead, he just shakes his head.
“Forget it.”
And with that, he turns, hopping back over the railing and jogging toward the field without a second glance. But you know better. It wasn’t nothing. And now, you don’t know what to do about it.
Eren doesn’t look at you for the rest of practice. Not once. It’s infuriating. From your spot on the bleachers, you watch as he throws himself back into drills like he’s got something to prove, pushing harder than necessary, muscles taut with tension. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed in concentration—but you know him. You know when he’s actually focused and when he’s just using the game as an excuse to run from something. You also know what—or who—he’s running from.
You exhale, frustrated. It’s not like you wanted Floch’s attention. Hell, you would’ve been fine never speaking to him again. But Eren had stormed over like he owned you, like it was his problem to handle, and now he won’t even look at you? It was all too confusing.
Eren misses a catch from Bertholdt, taking off his helmet and throwing it to the ground with an audible 'fuck!' that echoed around the football field. Running a hand through his sweat drenched hair, the frustration in his face is super evident.
Historia, sitting beside you, hums in amusement. “That was deliciously messy,” she murmurs, sipping from her water bottle. "The whole situation. Possessive Eren, the little bicker, everything."
“It’s annoying.” A scoff leaves your lips and you can't help but stare at Eren with a confused and irritated expression.
“Oh, it’s both.”
Ymir snickers, her sunglass covered eyes looking at the way Eren is still pouting. “Dumbass is jealous.”
You roll your eyes. “He is not jealous.”
Ymir glances at you with an expression so patronizing you want to shove her off the bleachers. “Right. He just lost his entire mind over Floch flirting with you for no reason at all.”
You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because—yeah. The thing is, Eren isn’t the jealous type. He’s never been possessive over you before, never given you any reason to think he cared about who talked to you. He’s always been the annoying one—flirting playfully, ruffling your hair, teasing you about your nonexistent love life like it was all some big joke. And maybe it was. Maybe he was just messing around, just playing into the dynamic you’d always had. But today felt different. And that scared you more than anything.
You wait for him by the locker room. It’s a stupid idea. You know it’s a stupid idea. You could’ve gone home, could’ve ignored the way your pulse has been pounding ever since practice ended, ever since he stormed off like you did something wrong. You could’ve pretended it didn’t bother you—the way he looked right through you for the rest of practice, the way his body went stiff when you so much as moved in his direction, the way he threw himself into drills like he was trying to hit something that wasn’t there.
But you’re still here. Waiting.
The late afternoon sun is sinking lower in the sky, drenching everything in a honey-gold glow. It should be pretty, peaceful even, but the knot in your stomach makes it hard to appreciate. The air is thick, humid from the lingering heat of the day, and your skin feels sticky, uncomfortable. The locker room door swings open in intervals, groups of players filtering out, laughing, talking about parties, weekend plans, things you can’t bring yourself to care about.
Then—finally—he steps out. Eren.
You feel his presence before you even see him, your body going still, your heart stuttering in your chest. He looks good. Unfairly so. His hoodie is loose over his shoulders, damp hair falling into his face, a few strands curling at the ends. His skin is still flushed from exertion, the glow of the sunset catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the hollow of his throat where the collar of his hoodie has slipped down just enough. He’s effortlessly attractive, in a way that makes your stomach twist with something you don’t want to name.
He notices you immediately. Stops in his tracks. Something flickers across his face—something unreadable—but then it’s gone, replaced by a carefully neutral expression, like he wasn’t just throwing a damn fit over you and Floch thirty minutes ago.
Your arms cross tightly over your chest. “You ran off.”
Eren exhales, looking past you, jaw tight and thick brows furrowed. “Didn’t run.” His voice is flat, clipped. You know him too well to miss the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his shoulders are tense even though he’s trying to look casual.
You take a step closer. “Eren.”
His jaw ticks. “What?”
That’s all he says—short, sharp, like a blade cutting through the space between you. It makes irritation flare in your chest, a spark igniting beneath your ribs. He’s the one who lost his mind over nothing. He’s the one who got weird. And now he’s acting like you’re the problem?
You grit your teeth. “Are you seriously mad at me?”
His head snaps toward you so fast it nearly startles you. “Mad at you?” He lets out a dry, humorless scoff, running a hand through his hair, making the damp strands even messier. “I’m not—Jesus, y/n. I just don’t get why you were even entertaining that guy.”
Your stomach drops. The word entertaining rubs you the wrong way, makes your irritation flare into something hotter. “I wasn’t entertaining anyone,” you snap, voice tight.
Eren exhales sharply, shifting his weight like he’s trying to hold something back. “He was all over you.” yeah, he was dragging it.
Your lips press together. “And?”
His eyes darken, flickering with something upsetting, something raw. “And I didn’t like it.”
It’s barely above a whisper, but it slams into you like a physical force. Your breath catches. The words linger between you, heavy, charged with something neither of you can name but both of you can feel. Your heartbeat is erratic, hammering against your ribs. You’re staring at him, searching his face for answers, for clarity, for anything—but he’s already looking away, already forcing his expression into something unreadable, like he didn’t just say something that made your entire world shift on its axis.
He knows. You know he knows. And that terrifies both of you.
He inhales sharply, like he’s about to say something else—but then he stops himself. A muscle in his jaw twitches before he shakes his head. “Forget it.”
“No,” you say quickly, stepping forward, voice urgent, desperate. “Eren—”
But he’s already turning away. Already walking. And this time, you don’t try to stop him. Because the truth is—You’re just as scared as he is.
You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at the space he left behind. Minutes? Seconds? It feels longer than it probably is, but the weight in your chest doesn’t go away. You don’t get it. You’ve had arguments with Eren before. Dumb ones. Stupid ones. He’s annoyed you a million times, and you’ve annoyed him right back. But this? This hurts in a way you don’t know how to process.
Because it felt real. Because it felt like something cracked open between you—something undeniable. And because deep down, in the part of you that you’ve tried to shove away for years, you know the truth: You don’t want him to be okay with other guys flirting with you. You don’t want him to treat you the same way he treats every other girl. And if today proved anything—if the way he reacted, the way he looked at you was any sign—maybe he doesn’t want that either. Maybe he never did.
Eren’s hands are clenched into fists as he walks, barely registering the conversations around him. His heart is still pounding. His body is itching with leftover adrenaline, but it has nothing to do with practice. What the hell was that? His own words play back in his mind, over and over. "I didn’t like it." What the fuck was he thinking, saying that out loud?
He’s been reckless before. He’s flirted with you for years—always playfully, always in a way that he could pass off as a joke. But that? That wasn’t a joke. That was raw, unfiltered, stupid.
Because he can’t have you. Because you don’t see him that way. Because even if you did, he’s not good enough for you. You’re y/n. You’re his best friend. The girl who somehow makes everything in his life feel a little easier, a little lighter, just by being around. The girl he’s been in love with since he was old enough to understand what love is.
And you deserve someone better. Someone who isn’t just figuring out his place in the world. Someone who isn’t Eren Yeager—impulsive, reckless, always getting himself into trouble.
But even knowing that—Even knowing he should stop—He still turns around, just for a second, just to look back. Just to see if you’re still standing there. And when he sees you—arms crossed, head slightly bowed, looking like you’re caught up in your own spiral—It fucking kills him. Because if he wasn’t such a coward, he’d tell you the truth. That he doesn’t just like you. He’s yours. He’s always been yours. But it’s too late now. And it’s all his fault.
feat. Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto ᯓ★ What's wrong with your boyfriends killing a random sleazebag here and there? You just like to indulge in the celebration that comes after.
warnings! : NSFW 18+, college au, exhibitionism, breast play, fingering, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, male masturbation, oral sex (m and f receiving), creampie, cum eating, blood play, knife play, murder (not of reader), fucking over a dead body, everyone getting bricked up over murder
ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3
The familiar hands of your boyfriend find themselves around your waist, swaying to the beat of whatever techno song plays as drunk college students stumble along to the bass vibrating across the walls.
“Got a present for you upstairs.”
Gojo’s lips ghost the shell of your ear, nipping at it teasingly as you throw your head back into the crook of his neck.
“Oh?” He presses his front up against your backside. You can feel the way his cock strains in his pants as he subtly grinds up against you.
Gojo trails kisses down your neck and you shiver. “Come on, babe. Suguru’s getting a little impatient. You know how he is.” His hands move down to grab at your ass, motioning you along in the frat house, up the stairs to one of the rooms at the end of the hall.
The metallic, iron-like smell of blood fills the air as you open the door, making you halt in place. In front of you stands your other boyfriend Geto, dressed in an all-too-familiar black robe and holding a bloody knife.
His head lifts up as he hears you two come in. He sets the knife onto a desk and stalks across the room, grabbing you from Gojo’s hold and bringing you in for a passionate kiss. You moan into Geto’s lips, digging your fingers into his long black tresses.
“What’s this from?” you ask hesitantly when you pull apart from him.
Before either one of your boyfriends can answer you, a broken moan sounds from the other side of the room, as though below the bed.
Geto takes your hand, guiding you to the source of the noise.
You gasp and take a step back, falling into his chest as you’re greeted with the sight of a bloodied man, writhing across the floor. Through his light colored shirt you can see multiple stab wounds, courtesy of Geto. The man coughs, and blood spurts out of his mouth, covering his neck and chest.
Gojo then pipes up, throwing an arm around Geto’s shoulder and jerking his head to the man. “Recognize him?”
You can’t seem to place who this is at first. But then when you look past all of the blood, you’re able to place why he seems so familiar. Just an hour or two ago, when you first arrived with Gojo and Geto at this party, this guy was in the kitchen with all the alcohol. When you went to get some for yourself, he groped your ass, something you complained about to your boyfriends later on.
The guy coughs again, and it sounds like a gargle. He clutches his side, a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding coming out of multiple wounds.
“Help me,” he moans, blood dribbling from the sides of his lips.
It’s a gross sight, really, and you sneer at the sight of him. No way in hell were you helping someone like him. Especially if it would be your boyfriends that you would hypothetically be up against.
You narrow your eyes, turning and walking away from him. “Maybe you should keep your hands off of women and you wouldn’t end up like this, asshole.”
“Ooh,” Gojo hisses from behind you. “Sorry, bud. Better luck next time.”
“You,” —the guy spits out more blood— “bitch.”
“Now, now, enough of that.” Geto grabs him by the curls on his head, dragging him forward so that he’s positioned in the center of the room, closer to where you stand near the bottom of the bed.
Gojo strides on over nonchalantly, standing right behind you. He starts to caress your sides, his hands moving sensually up and down your body. If it was possible, Gojo seems even harder now. His cock throbs in his pants as it presses against your backside. “Watch,” he whispers to you.
Geto stands in front of you, still holding the man up by his hair. He’s on his knees, and the blood from his mouth and his wounds are slowly starting to stain his clothes and his body a pinkish color.
The man winces as Geto’s grip on him tightens. “You’re here because we need to teach you a lesson.”
You gasp as Gojo’s hands move under your shirt, pulling it and your bra up in one fell swoop. He starts to pinch and pull at your nipples, which stand hard with your aroused state.
Geto hums in satisfaction at the sight, his eyes hooded with pleasure.
“Did you really think we would let you touch her like this?” Gojo chimes in. He relishes in how your body wriggles against him, craving his touch. One of his hands moves lower, and lower, and lower, and then disappears into your pants.
You moan as Gojo starts to play with your pussy, fingering at your slit. “Can’t believe how wet you are,” he croons in your ear, “getting worked up over something like this.” He tuts at you, playing with your folds as you let your body fall into him.
“Like—” you’re interrupted by your own involuntary moan as Gojo sticks two fingers inside of you with no warning. “Like you’re one to talk.”
His cock jumps as he laughs. He curls his fingers, and then begins to pump them in and out of your pussy.
“You see that?” Geto says. He’s talking to the bloody guy. “Only we get to touch her like that.” He leans down, staring at him eye to eye. “This is why you’re here. Because you touched something that’s ours. And for that” —he reaches behind him, brandishing the bloody knife— “you’ll have to pay.”
Seeing your typically calm and collected boyfriend take control like that was doing things to you. You feel your body heat up, and your core clenches around Gojo’s fingers, your imagination running wild with the change in your boyfriend’s behavior, thinking about all the things he could do to you.
Your moans are uncontrollable now as you whine and buck against Gojo, craving more.
“Shit, Suguru. Look at him, he’s hard!” Your boyfriend jeers at the man on the ground, but you don’t care enough to take your attention off the pleasure. “Aw man, what a fucking loser. Gotta get hard over our girl ‘cause he can’t find one on his own.”
Geto lets out a sound of disgust, sending a kick to the guy’s kidney. “Filthy fucking monkey.”
You can feel your peak approaching, and as you tighten around Gojo’s fingers he’s able to sense it, too. “Fuck, Suguru, I think she’s about to cum.”
“Not yet.” Suguru reaches out behind him, grabbing one last thing—a Ghostface mask. He fastens it onto his head before turning back to his soon-to-be victim.
“Fuck with our girl, pay the price.”
With that, Geto holds the man’s head up and slowly digs his knife across his throat. Blood pours out in waves, splashing against his body and the floor beneath him. Geto drops him without a care, and the man’s body falls face-first onto the floor as his blood surrounds him in a giant pool.
You gasp, and the shock of the scene in front of you paired with Gojo’s fingers wildly fucking into you has you cumming before you can even notice. Your eyes squeeze shut and your legs shake as your orgasm hits, your body going weak as Gojo holds you up.
When you open your eyes, Geto stands in front of you, still donning his bloody mask and knife.
You pant heavily, staring up at your boyfriend who slowly tilts his head while staring down at you.
“So you’re really Ghostface?” you ask, feeling dumb as soon as the question is out. You just watched him kill a man right in front of you. He rustles around his cloak, pulling out a small device. He clicks the button on the side of the device, bringing it up to his mask. “Not just me.” The device is a voice changer, you realize, and the voice that comes out is different from his own—much more gravelly, much more like that of a killer. You know exactly what he’s implying. You crane your neck to look at the man nuzzling into your hair.
“You too, Satoru?”
He places a kiss on the side of your head. “You know it, baby.”
A moment of silence passes before you speak up again.
“Is that why we also have the best sex coincidentally after the news hits of the killings around town?”
Your question is answered not by words, but by the cheeky grin on Gojo’s face.
“Clearly you enjoy it just as much as we do.” Geto continues, he runs his hands over your breasts, tracing the curves of your body until he reaches your wet folds, fingering at them. You gasp, still sensitive from your release.
“You’re not the only one who got worked up all over it.” He moves his robes around, and you see that Geto is sporting a boner.
“Fuck, that’s hot, babe,” Gojo whines from behind you. You silently agree.
Geto smirks. “It’ll be hotter once it’s inside of her.” His hands grip around your hips, pulling your pelvis closer to his. He deftly strips his lower half, his cock springing free from its confines in front of you. He goes to lift his mask up, but you stop him with a hand on his wrist.
“K-keep it on, please.” You can feel your face heat up, from embarrassment or arousal though, you aren’t entirely sure.
You can just imagine the smirk that Geto has on his face beneath it. “Dirty girl.” He agrees to the request, and the mask stays secured to his face.
Gojo breathes heavily from behind you, no doubt entranced by Geto just like you are.
“So greedy,” Geto hums. He gives his cock a few tugs and then lines it up with your pussy. You both hiss at the stretch of him inside of you, your insides pulsating with the new sensation.
“Oh, God,” you moan, clutching onto Geto’s shoulders like your life depended on it.
“There’s no God here,” he whispers into your ear, his hips pumping into you at a rapid pace, “only us.”
Gojo drops to his knees, his eyes focused on where you and Geto are connected. “Fuck,” he murmurs, “look at you too. He leans up, his tongue licking a long strip from Geto’s balls all the way to you opening. He slurps at your wetness as it sloshes out of you with Geto’s thrusts.
“Oh, yes, more!” you cry out. Gojo’s tongue feels like perfection as he expertly moves it around to hit your most sensitive spots. You can tell that Geto is also affected by the way his hips stutter, his rhythmic thrusts becoming more jerky.
“Such a whore for us.” Geto’s hands come up to grip your face, and you finally notice how the two of you are now covered in the blood of the man he just killed. The realization causes you to gasp and your walls flutter around Geto.
“Oh?” He looks at the way your pupils dilated on seeing the blood across both you and himself. “You like being covered in blood? So naughty,” he teases.
From his position on the ground, Gojo is able to reach the man’s corpse, and he sticks his hand in the puddle of blood that has yet to dry. He brings his blood-covered hands back up to your body, rubbing them all over your stomach and chest.
You moan as Gojo covers your body in blood, smearing it all over you. Your boyfriend reveals a toothy grin. “I like this look on her.”
Geto hums in agreement, dragging a hand down your body. “Get back over here,” he says to Gojo. He obeys, alternating between putting his mouth on your pussy and Geto’s cock.
“’M gonna cum again,” you stutter out, nails digging into the black robe.
Geto laughs. “Are you?” Suddenly, he pulls out his bloody knife, positioning it up to your neck. Your pussy grips him even tighter, your arousal so close to reaching its peak. “Such a bad girl. Squirming all over my dick with a knife to your throat.”
Gojo chimes in with a laugh. “Getting fucked by a killer’s cock while his victim is right next to you. Fuck, she’s clenching so hard around you, Suguru.”
You don’t even have time to protest or talk back before you cum, releasing your juices all over Geto’s cock, remnants falling onto Gojo’s face.
Geto’s release isn’t far behind your own.
“Fucking take it,” he groans, and his dick pulsates as he finally cums inside of you. His warm cum feels so good in your pussy, and you whimper when he finally pulls out of you.
Gojo’s tongue quickly replaces the feeling, however, and he greedily licks up both your arousal and Geto’s cum. You dig your fingers through his white locks as he eats you out like a man starved. Geto stands back, surveying the scene in front of him with pleasure.
When Gojo pulls away from your pussy, you practically collapse on top of him. He brings you down into his lap, bringing his lips up to your ear. His next words send a shock of pleasure down your spine and arousal churning in your core.
“Next time, you can watch me get a kill.”
suna r. x fem!reader
Suna and y/n were high school besties, they did everything together and meant everything to each other—until he fucked things up. or In which a situationship doesn't work out (classic!)
⊹ ࣪ ˖ trope: situationship to strangers (not really) to lovers, university au, first smau
⊹ ࣪ ˖ warnings/disclaimers: kys jokes, ooc, cringey, swearing, sexual jokes, fluff, very little angst, might be a bit messy, ignore the timestamps
⊹ ࣪ ˖status: coming soon
a/n: this is my first ever post, fanfic, smau whatever you wanna call it so please be patient with me 😭 idk how this works
INTRO: we need help ʚɞ lovers4life
CHAP 1
SYNOPSIS
you've liked your twin brothers' best friend for as long as you can remember — it's unreciprocated, though. one day, you stumble onto an anonymous chat website for people who are experiencing one-sided love or attraction.
rintarou suna, chronically online, chronically bored, and chronically in love with y/n miya, finds the exact same chat site while doomscrolling twitter.
[ . . . one new friend request . . . ! ]
CONTENTS // WARNINGS // INFO
fem!reader, miya!reader, kys/kms jokes, possible ooc, late updates, crack humour, blended smau, weird groups but they're MY favourites ok MINE
miya family (+suna ig.) || y/n poopies || suna fanclub || extras
01. unrequitedlovers.org
02. the much awaited cat adoption arc
03. all hypotheticals
04.
authors note(s) !!
posting this early !! wink wink i still have some details to fix so the first chapter will be out a bit later </3 (this is the loml we're working with here so it has to be perfect..)
also someone get the y/n poopies reference please (poopynation cmon)
it's called circles bc. uh. they're stupid and keep going around in circles
taglist is open !
comment or send an ask to be tagged <33
likes n rbs r appreciated <3 thank you !
© hyenagoated 2024 all rights reserved :3
ONE LAST TIME, R. SUNA
sum. two months into your relationship with your current boyfriend, your ex-fwb finally sends you a voicenote to let you know exactly how he feels about it.
feat. rintarou suna
cw. ex-fwb!suna, cheating, mutual masturbation (kinda lol), jealousy, dirty talk, anal mention, pillow humping, possessiveness, degradation
wc. 1.2k
When you posted your first official pictures of you and your new boyfriend, you had expected Suna to react…negatively. You basically braced for impact the moment you hit post, but all you got from him was an Instagram notification and two texts.
sunarin liked your post.
rin ;)
lmk if you want me to delete our pics. and hmu when you two break up :p
You never bothered replying, initially not sure how to reply, and then forgetting about the texts entirely. The two of you barely have any contact for a few weeks after that, but he's obviously keeping up with your socials; liking every post and viewing every story. It doesn't bother you, but it's weird going cold turkey on your relationship like that. You had expected him to reach out for some sort of closure. You wanted him to.
Halloween swings by in no time, and (much to you boyfriend’s dismay) you dress up as a sexy nurse. You don’t remember much of the night, but you do know that you posted a picture of you and your friends all dressed up on your story before getting blackout drunk.
Your phone dies early on in the night. Your friends take good care of you up until it’s time to bring you back home, and you don’t wake up until the afternoon. You don’t check your phone until a couple hours after that—long after it's been turned on and charged to 100%.
When you finally check it, two particular notifications catch your attention.
sunarin liked your story.
rin ;)
Voice Message
The voice message is 12 minutes long.
You exit your texts immediately, opting to distract yourself by tending to your other notifications. It doesn’t help much. Your mind races, wondering what he was talking about for so long and if it was really so important that he reached out after almost four months of near-silence.
You toss your phone onto your bed, shaking your head. You try to ignore it, cleaning the bathroom and folding the laundry and vacuuming the living room all in an effort to forget about the lengthy recording sitting in your phone.
But it doesn’t take long for the curiosity gnawing at you to win.
You practically run back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Your fingers move quickly across the screen, hitting play without hesitation.
The first 8 seconds are nearly silent, and you start to wonder if it’s possible that he sent such a long message by mistake.
But then you hear a heavy sigh.
“I like your costume.” His tone is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. “You look hot.”
There’s another moment of silence, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind and stop listening.
But then Suna moans and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.
“You never answered my text, y’know. When I asked if you wanted me to delete our pictures. So, uh, I kept ‘em.”
Oh.
Oh fuck.
“I’m looking at one right now. It’s from last Halloween. When you-“ His breath hitches. “When you went as a Playboy Bunny.”
You remember. Suna dressed as Hugh Hefner and the two of you went to a party together. Then he took you back to his apartment and fucked you while you were still wearing the bunny ears and bowtie.
You’re pretty positive you’re not wearing the bodysuit in the picture he’s looking at.
“I don’t know how much of this night you actually remember, but I can describe the picture for you.”
You tense, anticipation sending goosebumps up your arms.
“You’re kneeling on the ground, looking up at the camera, and you’ve still got those bunny ears on your head.”
This voice message is going in the last direction you thought it would. Is he—?
“You’ve got cum all over your face, baby.” He laughs to himself before continuing. “And you’re sticking your tongue out like a fucking whore.”
Suna takes a ragged breath, a sound you're all too familiar with. It confirms your suspicions—he’s definitely jerking off.
“That was a good night. We had a lot of good nights.” He sounds miffed all of a sudden. “I seriously doubt the boyfriend is fucking you as good as I did.”
You suppress a shiver. A pang of guilt heats your chest at the mention of your boyfriend. You should stop listening. Delete the message. Tell him to delete the pictures and then probably block him.
Or you could let the message keep playing.
Suna inhales sharply, followed by a shaky moan. You swear you can hear the sound of his fist stroking his dick.
“I hope you’re not letting him put it in your ass like you let me. That’s our thing, okay?”
Under different circumstances you would have laughed.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “And I hope you’re not letting him spit in your fucking mouth. Or–shit–doing that thing where you’d suck me off with your head hanging upside down off the bed.” He falters at the end of the sentence, groaning into the phone.
“I’m not gonna–” he interrupts himself, sighing deeply. “I’m not gonna pretend I’ve been happy for you. I miss you.”
You feel hot all over, a heady combination of annoyance and arousal and embarrassment. There’s a dull throbbing between your legs and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is what Suna wanted when he sent the message.
“Just–just let me fuck you one more time. Okay princess? I’ll make it sooo good for you,” he whines. You can hear his hand picking up speed.
“It’s still early. Two months is nothing, it won’t even count as cheating.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “God, just one last time. Please?”
Without thinking, you grab a pillow and position yourself over it in a straddle. You won’t let him fuck you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make you come one last time.
“I promise I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue. And you can pick all the positions if you want to.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “Or just lay there. I’ll do all the work.”
You grind into the pillow beneath you, picturing the expression you know he’d be wearing if he were in front of you–batting those dark eyelashes with raised eyebrows, just barely able to control the smug curve of his lips.
Heat pools in your gut and a whimper falls from your lips. Suna keeps talking.
“I know you miss me. You have to. You’re probably touching yourself to this right now.”
You gasp softly and rock your hips faster.
“Such a fucking slut.” You hear the telltale quiver in his voice that tells you he’s getting close. “My fucking slut.”
You moan, his words giving you flashbacks.
“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m coming,” he rasps, before letting off a series of moans and whimpers that almost make you concede. You grind harder into the pillow beneath you, imagining Suna in his room, chest heaving, talking into the phone and making himself come to pictures of you.
That does it. A tsunami of pleasure washes over you, forcing your body to tense before you go limp, collapsing onto your bed with a shudder.
You and Suna breathe in tandem, both of you catching your breath.
You hear another laugh through the phone. “Damn, that was a lot.” There’s the sound of sheets rustling. “Kinda made a mess, princess.”
He’s silent for another few beats before clearing his throat. “Text me, okay?” he says quietly. “Please.”
The voice message ends.
The ruins of the ancient temple felt colder under the pale light of the moon. My footsteps echoed as I stepped into the heart of it, the air around me heavy with something dark and suffocating. My wings shifted uneasily, brushing against my back as if they, too, sensed his presence.
I shouldn’t have come.
"You shouldn’t be here," I said aloud, my voice trembling just enough to betray the war raging within me.
A shadow moved from the corner of my eye, and then he was there—Sasuke. His wings, once just as pure and radiant as my own, now hung behind him like obsidian blades. They were tarnished, beautiful in their own ruin, like him.
"I could say the same to you," he replied, his voice a low, velvety drawl that made my heart skip. He stepped closer, his crimson eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "You fell." My words came out quieter than I intended, a whisper of disbelief and something deeper—regret. "Why did you fall, Sasuke?"
He smirked, the faintest curve of his lips that still managed to leave me breathless. "Because I was tired of pretending to be something I’m not. And because I knew you’d follow me."
His words hit me like a blow, but I couldn’t deny the truth in them. I *had* followed him.
When he reached out, his fingers grazed my chin, tilting my face toward him. The warmth of his touch was a shock against the cold night air, and I froze, my wings fluttering faintly in protest—or surrender.
"I missed you," he murmured, his voice like a prayer and a curse all at once. "But you missed me too, didn’t you?"
I opened my mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, the touch so gentle, so utterly at odds with the dark energy radiating from him.
"This is wrong," I said instead, though even I didn’t believe it.
"Then stop me," he challenged, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear. "Tell me to go, little angel, and I will."
But I couldn’t.
I shuddered as his wings unfolded, cocooning us in shadows. The world beyond the temple seemed to disappear, leaving only us in this forbidden moment. Before I could find my voice, his lips crashed against mine, stealing what little breath I had left.
His kiss was fire, consuming and unrelenting. My hands found his chest, pushing him away—no, pulling him closer. I hated how much I wanted him, how much I had always wanted him, but I couldn’t stop myself.
"Sasuke," I gasped as he pulled away, his lips trailing down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
"Say you want me," he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip my hips, pulling me flush against him. His voice was raw, demanding, and it sent a thrill through me I couldn’t deny.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling as his touch ignited something deep inside me. "I want you," I whispered, the words feeling like a fall from grace.
A wicked smile spread across his face, and I knew he had won. He lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the cold stone of the temple wall. His wings surrounded us, a shroud of darkness that should have terrified me. Instead, I felt only the heat of his body, the intensity of his desire, and my own, burning just as fiercely.
His lips claimed mine again, and this time, I surrendered completely. There was no room for hesitation, no space for guilt or second thoughts. His hands roamed over my body, every touch more demanding than the last, and I gave in to him, to the sinful bliss he offered.
His whispers filled my ears—promises, confessions, and the faintest hint of vulnerability beneath the darkness. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my wings brushing against his in a way that felt almost sacrilegious, yet so achingly right.
For tonight, I didn’t care about the consequences. He was my fall from grace, and as his lips and hands consumed me, I realized I’d let myself fall a thousand times over if it meant being with him.
evajacks headers. 💐
like/reblog if you save or use!
PART 1 - the first & second times
WC - 1.6k
SYN - No love story ever began with, “Once upon a one-night-stand.”
CW - [18+!] afab!reader but no gendered terms are used, reader and Otoya are both implied to be a little promiscuous, dubcon (only because of alcohol, both parties enthusiastically consent), alcohol use, fingering, oral (f receiving), light anal play, spit fetish
SERIES MASTERLIST — NEXT
the first time
You both still smell like the club: sweat, the faint bite of cigarettes, and a mix of your go-to fragrance and his. It mingles in the air like your tongues in each other’s mouths. Becomes acquainted like his palms with the soft skin beneath your skirt.
The two of you were quick about it, spurred on by a splash of alcohol and an overflow of attraction. He was the ideal ratio of chill to shameless flirt, and you had fuck-me eyes and a pretty mouth. It was a perfect alignment of intentions.
There’s not much talking, just heavy breaths and the sticky sweet sound of lips and tongues in the darkness of your apartment. You’re wrapped up in the feel of each other, all eager and greedy and hot. He blindly backs you into a wall corner and you gasp. “Shit, sorry,” he breathes, cradling the back of your head in apology, “Bedroom?”
You know he’s going to fuck you good by the way he looks when he’s climbing onto the edge of your bed and pulling his shirt over his head. By the way he emerges from the cotton and has a dark, hungry playfulness in his eyes. He’s a good kisser (even if it is messy in the way drunken one-night-stands often are) and he has the confidence to hike one of your legs up high and roll his hips into you. Once, twice, again, again as he licks into your mouth and along the side of your neck. Chasing the heat and friction, reveling in your unabashed moaning.
He knows what he’s doing. You can tell by his demeanor that he’s done it plenty of times. He asks you how you want it then gives it to you like someone who knew how to give it to you from the start.
In return, you voice all your needs without a hint of shyness. With the confidence of someone who’s as experienced as he is. You’re nasty about it, too. A little demanding. (Fuck me. Harder. Touch me, right here. Like that— oh my god. Hear how wet you made me? Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop.) It makes him lose his mind, just a little bit.
After you’re both left panting and satisfied, the fantasy wringed from your bodies and the condom tied off and thrown out, you begin the careful dance of getting him the fuck out of your apartment and he falls into step with you. Another unspoken understanding between you, that you’re on the same page.
As you’re walking him to the door he holds his hand out for your phone and inserts his contact information (you’re grateful that he enters his name because you don’t entirely remember it) then immediately calls himself. “That was fun,” he says with a hint of a smile, “I’ll text you.”
You don’t expect to hear from him ever again.
the second time
You hear from him a week later, to your surprise.
It’s surprising not only because he bothered to text you at all, but because he does it so soon. It’s also not the typical middle-of-the-night text. It’s like 5pm, the sun barely dipping into the center of the sky.
You’re sober now, and more than a little grateful that he’s still good-looking. Very good-looking. Even better looking in the warm light of dusk, shirtless and hovered over you as he rubs your pussy through your shorts.
He’s taking his time exploring you — far different from the first time you fucked, which was all raw tension and release. Every bit of you is hot and primed by the time he pulls your shorts to the side and dips his finger in.
“Already so wet,” he notes, playful in that flat way of his. You make a comment about how he’s been teasing you, which he ignores in favor of teasing you some more. His fingers explore where you’re wettest, getting all coated while avoiding your clit long enough to make your hips cant up, then he brings them to his mouth to taste.
He knows exactly what he’s doing; this move always works. But, to his surprise, you don’t become bashful at all. You don’t avert your eyes or call it embarrassing. Instead, your entire expression darkens. The sight of him savoring the taste of you acts like a flame to kindling, only emboldening you further.
Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you guide his fingers to your lips next. You hold his gaze, take them deep and suck. He can feel the back of your throat, the tip of your tongue, the dull skim of teeth. So warm and slippery around his fingers. Otoya breaks eye contact to watch your lips drag around them, and his jaw goes a little slack at the sight.
There’s a sort of inherent game being played in the early days of fucking someone new — one you enjoy above all else. It’s a playful exchange of power, a push and pull, a gentle testing of boundaries in search of the things that drive the other crazy.
A love for fucking is what you’d say you and Otoya have in common, but really it’s this. Playing this game, this exploratory back-and-forth as you’re trying to get the one-up on each other. That one, decisive move has given you the advantage in this game. And that makes both of you very excited.
Still, Otoya keeps his cool. Remains patient. He rubs your clit and kisses your neck and chest until you’re tangling your hand up in his hair. Sucks on the sensitive skin of your stomach and thighs until you’re opening your legs wide for him to settle between.
“Can I eat you out?” He asks, punctuating with another messy kiss to your inner thigh. “I’ll make it good for you.”
Implying that, first and foremost, it’s going to be good for him. You realize this with a warm rush of arousal.
You respond by shimmying out of your shorts, giving him a nice view of your pussy between your closed thighs as you fold your knees up and pull them off, then opening wide for him again. Glistening wet, and on full display.
His patience leaves him in one deep, heavy breath.
He uses his whole mouth, all warm and wet and rhythmic, a shameless make out session with your cunt that surprises you as much as it melts you down to the bone. It’s a slippery mess in no time, him drooling generously all over you and you leaking more arousal in return. He’s really enjoying this, you think, like he could do nothing but this and still leave satisfied.
And he’s good at it. Really fucking good.
Otoya massages your clit with his tongue, closes his lips around it to swirl and suck lightly, then starts the process over again. Methodical, practiced. All while he watches you, gauging your reactions with lidded eyes. What he’s learned is that you like grinding yourself on his flattened tongue, and you love watching him spit on it. He wants to know what else you like, find out what else makes your body respond like that. Experimentally, he dips down low and licks all the way back up, pushes your legs back into the mattress then dips down even lower— your eyes roll back.
Bingo.
“You like a tongue in your ass?”
You smile lazily down at him. “Is that a crime?”
“No,” his teeth graze lightly over the space between your thigh and the fat of your ass, a testament to how hungry he is for it, “‘s hot as fuck.”
You breathe out a curse as you watch him collect saliva in his mouth and spit it down onto you. It’s warm and slippery when it hits your pussy, followed by the sensation of liquid dripping low. He catches it with his tongue. You shudder.
He’s forward about eating your ass in a way that makes your resolve crumble. It’s the kind of thing that a lot of men pretend to be into, but aren’t actually nasty enough to go through with. Their desire doesn’t run deep enough to get a little dirty. But this guy — this nonchalant pretty boy you happened to take home from the club once — has his face buried between your legs like it’s the most honest thing he can do.
Running your hands through his hair, you gently grind yourself against his tongue – feel it dip past the tightness of your hole. It’s too much, hearing him groan and watching his pretty green eyes roll up. Every part of you is pulled so taut it’s aching.
“Please,” you whine in spite of yourself, dragging the word out pathetically.
“Please what?” There’s just enough smugness in his voice to make your stomach twist with need.
“Need your mouth back on my clit. And your fingers inside me. Please, Otoya.”
His face comes back into view. The lower half is glistening, messy. He runs a finger down your slit, turns his palm up and pushes in, then promptly adds another. You’re so wet there’s no resistance. You’re so wound-up you could cry.
He lowers his face back down, wrapping his free arm around your thigh to pull you close. So close you can feel his hot breath caress right where you need him. His fingers aren’t particularly thick, but they’re long and skilled enough to induce that pleasurable full feeling. Watching intently, he pumps them steadily deeper until your whole body is arching and flexing with tension.
He makes you wait just long enough to hear you breathe in, readying another whine. Then just before he gives you his tongue again, he tells you, inflated ego making his eyes sharp and his voice teasing:
“When you cum, call me Eita.”
Tw- Stepcest, dubcon??, he’s really rough and mean, Megumi is 19, this is really dark!!! Not proofread
A/n this is a remake, you can find the og here
Stepbrother!Megumi and Stepdad!Toji taking turns stuffing your poor cunt with their sperm each night, it’s like an unspoken competition between father and son on who ruins your pussy and fucks you stupid and dumb the most. Whenever it’s Megumi’s turn the night after Toji, he’s so rough and aggressive with you, it’s as if he’s madman trying to destroy you. Gripping onto a fistful of your hair harshly from behind as he pounds your dumb little brains out, cursing and babbling to himself about how Toji could never fuck you and ruin your poor little cunny as good as he does.
He’d fuck orgasms after orgasms out of you, his mean tip grazing against your cervis every time he forces his cock back into you, it’s so sloppy the way you’re drooling into the sheets. He’d stick his thumb into your asshole while he’s fucking you from behind, telling you that’s he’s going to be the one to take your anal virginity, not knowing that Toji has already done that a longgg time ago, but you obviously can’t won’t tell him that.
He pounds you with so much lust and passion, pistoling his cock into that one spot inside of you that knew it had you seeing stars, soo hard over and over. He manhandles you so harshly without a care in the world like he’s trying to break you or something.
“Nobody can wreck this sloppy little pussy like I can sweetheart, not even my fucking dad got that? It’s alright if you don’t, I’ll just fuck it into your dumb little brains instead, you’ll surely get it then” his tone harsh and serious, sending shivers down your spine because you know he’s not joking. He’s so possessive over you. He lands a hard brutal slap on your ass cheek, making sure that it’s gonna leave his hand print branded on your ass for days so Toji can see.
WHO DECIDED TO GATEKEEP THIS.
credit: haekz (ig) I WAS TOLD THIS BY A COMMENT!!